


29 Days of Whump (LANGST)

by the_forgotten_daydreamer



Series: Voltron: Legendary Defender [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abusive Kuron, Amputation, Anxiety, BAMF Lance, Beaten Lance, Blindness, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Branding, Broken Bones, Burns, Claustrophobia, Claustrophobic Lance (Voltron), Concussed Lance, Drowning, Drug Abuse, Fainting, Fever, Force-Feeding, Forced Nudity, Forced to Watch, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hallucinations, Headaches & Migraines, Human Experimentation, Human vivisection, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, LANCE DIES IN SOME CHAPTER SO READ THE NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF EACH ONE OF 'EM, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance Gets a Concussion, Lance gets migraines, Lance has anxiety, Lance has panic attacks, Lance passes out, M/M, Mind Control, NB Pidge, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Overdose, Panic Attack, Panic Attacks, Passed out Lance, Poison, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sick Lance (Voltron), Slaughter, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Stabbing, Starvation, Tags will be added each time, Torture, Traumatised Lance, Violence, Vomiting, Whipping, klance, they/them pronouns for Pidge (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 73,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_forgotten_daydreamer/pseuds/the_forgotten_daydreamer
Summary: Twenty-nine Langst fics (prompts created by @yuckwhump on Tumblr) that focus on Lance whump. Trigger warnings (ships included) can be found at the beginning of each chapter. Enjoy!
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance & Voltron Paladins
Series: Voltron: Legendary Defender [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680511
Comments: 398
Kudos: 418





	1. day one: vomiting

**Author's Note:**

> ⚠️ I do not own VLD nor these characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomiting, anxiety attack.

He hadn't slept at all, too busy thinking about the upcoming day.

The Blue Paladin had to prove that he was worthy, to his teammates, yes but mostly to himself.

Allura and Shiro had thought of a training exercise appositedly for Lance, still involving the others.

He knew that it was their 'subtle' way to make him understand that he was too weak in hand-to-hand combat. His aim was good, but not perfect, and that wasn't enough.

The Cuban boy had tried to eat the night before, but his stomach felt queasy, his head dizzy at the thought of ingesting something, so he gave up after unenthusiastically nibbling the Altean equivalent of bread.

He excused himself from the table, and went straight to bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes, skipping his skin-care routine, avoiding his usual herbal tea.

After roughly nine vargas, the day came.

Lance got up feeling alright, all considered. Looking in the mirror, he cringed: heavy eyebags stood vividly against his skin, pale and clammy to the touch, and his chapped lips seemed blue, opposed to his cheeks, redder than usual.

Nothing that make-up couldn't hide, still. 

After managing to mask his sickness and putting his armour on, leaning on the bed as hd swayed a couple of times, he headed to the dining room. "Morning" he chirped out, waving a hand sheepishly at the presents.

"Hey," his best friend smiled widely, promptly sliding a mug toward him, in which there was something that resembled porridge, only that it was blue, and a place on which a slice of 'cake' laid. 

He smiled back, looking at Shiro and Pidge who nodded at him, as one ate his food and the other typed furiously on their computer. 

Lance then laid his eyes on breakfast.

That was a mistake: his intestines flipped and twisted uncomfortably, forcing him to push the plate and mug back, acid tickling the back of his throat.

He couldn't do this.

"Dude, how are you not hungry?" asked Hunk, hand with the fork stopping midair, raising an eyebrow as dark eyes filled with shock, "you haven't eaten properly in, like, fifteen vargas!".

The team leader nodded, agreeing to the mechanic's statement, "You need carbs. We have a full day up ahead, Lance..." Shiro stated matter-of-factly, still looking at the Cuban boy with a confused gaze, "did you forget about our special training?"

"No!" Lance immediately replied, the emphasis worsening the ache in his belly; he clenched his fists underneath the table to ground himself, nails digging into the soft skin, "I'm just... I actually had a snack earlier and I'm full" he lied, lips arching in an awkward smile.

At the same time, a wave of pain shot through his stomach, sending his world tumbling sideways as he thanked whatever was up there for passing unnoticed.

Hunk huffed out a laugh at his previous statement and busied himself with his meal again, eyes low and not noticing the sickly pallor in his friend's face, while Shiro shook his head slightly, smiling, eyes low too.

A loud churning noise torn the silent room, and Pidge, who sat silently with their laptop, Hunk and Shiro simultaneously raised their gaze, immediately looking for its source.

Lance blushed, fully-aware that it was him to have done that embarrassingly noisy sound.

Pidge seemed to take notice as they adjusted their glasses, a malicious smirk on their face, "You okay, Sharpshooter?"

The former Blue Paladin paled further, managing somehow to smile fakely at that, nodding slightly.

Still, the presents at the table seemed to be worried, and he cursed himself. 

He was such a burden all the time, why couldn't he handle his problems properly on his own like everybody else did?

Keith never begged for his mamá, Hunk never cried himself to sleep, Pidge never locked themselves in the bathroom to keep their anxiety at bay, Allura never went to Coran for a low fever, and Coran surely never went to Shiro when he couldn't sleep.

"Yeah, the snack must have gone off... This place's ten-thousand decaphoebs old, y'know..." he joked, shrugging nonchalantly.

The other three sitting at the table laughed, and the Cuban sighed in relief, unnoticed.

"Training's in fifteen, don't be late, okay?" Shiro asked, not angry nor malicious, but in a very fatherly way, eyes kind yet focused.

Lance nodded, waving a hand as he left the room in a hurry, "Sure, see you there".

-

As soon as he stumbled into his room, only a couple of doboshes later, he dashed for the bathroom, his stomach lurching loudly.

Yet, nothing came up: a thick layer of saliva covered his mouth and chin, dripping ungraciously down it and into the toilet, the burning sensation in his stomach, abdomen and chest worsening and becoming more and more painful.

Lance groaned loudly, not caring since the door was closed, and cursed too, tears pricking the sides of his eyes.

_Fuck._

_Fuck_!

An acid burp escaped his trembling lips, breath shallow and unsteady; Lance gripped the rim of the toilet so tightly that his tan knuckles whitened, chin pressed on the cold bowl.

His body trembled, knees sitting painfully on the freezing tiles, eyes shut tight and skin paling by the second. Pearls of sweat formed on his forehead, on the back of his head, behind his ears and neck, dripping on his shirt, damping it rapidly.

Why him? Why today?

Allura had been preparing this special training for a week, and he was going to miss it.

Anxiety churned his already upset stomach, another burp leaving his throat.

God, he felt awful.

His esophagus felt uncomfortably tight, and Lance laughed bitterly at the thought that his body wanted to try and force something up and out of it. No way that was happening.

He had to get it together, he couldn't just stay there and moan helplessly all day, and he knew that well.

"Fuck..." he breathed out alongside another burp.

A faint knock made Lance gasp, fear drowning him. Who was it? Had someone heard him? Were they going to scold him?

Questions hammered his head from the inside as he held his breath, grip on the rim tightening, pupils tiny and shaky.

A rough yet delicate voice pulled him out of his trance, and Lance's complexion whitened beyond possible, his shirt and hair damp with sweat.

"Lance," Keith called from outside the room, "did you see my beyard?"

Ah, so he hadn't heard him after all.

_¡Gracias, Dios!_

However, happiness didn't last, as an unexpected gag escaped the Cuban's pale lips, a hand quickly flying up to muffle the sound.

"Huh, Lance? You okay in there?"

"Mmh" he forced out.

A pause, followed by the sound of the automatic door sliding open.

Oh, Lance hadn't locked it... 

_Mierda_.

Light and slow footsteps approached the annexed bathroom, Keith's voice curious, "Lance? Ah, you're in the bathroom?".

The door of the toilet wasn't completely closed, and Keith could see the light being on the inside of the room.

"Hey huh I thought I heard-" he stopped at the sight.

His fellow Paladin crouched in front of the toilet, his trembling shoulders the only visible thing about him.

Keith sat next to the toilet and Lance, and gasped softly: the boy's skin was pale and clammy, heat radiating through it. His usually tan complexion was in fact now of a sickly grey tinge, looking unhealthy. His eyes were red, pupils small and fluttering, and his nose inhaled sharply and rapidly, breath itched.

"Oh, Lance..." 

He was sick, there was no doubt. But... Why?

"'M sorry, I'll-" Lance stopped and gagged quietly, quickly recollecting himself, "I'll be down f' training in a sec..." he breathed out, voice barely audible and hiccupped.

"You're sick."

"No shit..." 

Keith rolled his eyes, "Idiot. Is it the flu? Or a stomach bug? Did you eat some weird food?" 

"Don't... Don't talk about food..." Lance begged, eyes shutting close ad a shudder rocked through him, a pained gasp escaping his lips, hand clutching the shirt around his stomach tightly.

"Sorry... What can I do for you?"

The Cuban, for a second, wondered if he was actually just dreaming. Was Keith, his 'rival', the one who constantly reprimanded him, the one that 'focus, idiot', worrying about him? Then, it hit him. 

_Of course, of course…_

The team couldn't form Voltron without a Lion... They needed Lance, willy-nilly.

That's why Keith wanted him to be up and going.

Right?

"Lance? You with me?" the Japanese boy asked, hand awkwardly rubbing what he hoped were soothing circles on the other's wet back.

"'M fine, dun worry... Go, I... I can handle this..."

A thick, black eyebrow rose on Keith's confused face, "You clearly can't. So... Water? Or shall I get someone? Have you thrown up yet?" he asked rapidly, getting panicky himself.

Still, to Lance, in his dazed and pained state, Keith's preoccupation seemed impatience for him to get better, for him to be useful and helping them save the Universe, for him to stop being a whiny bitch and actually do something good.

"Yeah... Just... Gimme a sec..." Lance whispered, and before Keith could stop him, the Cuban shoved two slim fingers down his throat, gagging loudly as his stomach lurched, head bobbing inside the toilet.

"Lance!! You idiot!" the other exclaimed, quickly putting one hand on the sick boy's forehead, holding his damp bangs back and supporting his head, and the other on his upper back, massaging furiously between his shoulderblades to provide comfort.

His purple eyes watered at the smell of bile, the noise of the acid liquid hitting the water in the toilet making him cringe.

Lance kept throwing up, pain wrecking his intestines, anxiety only worsening the situation.

"You gotta let it come naturally, not shove your fucking fingers down like that! Fuck..." Keith commented, still massaging his back.

His hand was now wet, but the thing that worried him the most was that he hadn't felt his teammate draw in a breath in a while.

It took a bit too long for Keith's liking to realize that Lance was hyperventilating too, added to the fact that his stomach didn't seem to have the intention of settling down. 

"Hey, breathe. Lance, you have to breathe" he instructed softly yet firmly, now patting his back.

"C-can't" he struggled, voice low and rough from the vomit. He lurched forward again, gagging.

"Your airway is free, I can feel the air moving inside of you" Keith stated confused, as he was indeed feeling that Lance's trachea was free and functioning, "just... Take a deep breath through your nose and push it out of your mouth" he tried.

The Red Paladin had never dealt with sickness that wasn't his own, so he was admittedly bad at this. Still, he couldn't just leave Lance there when he obviously required some assistance. He wasn't Shiro nor Coran, he didn't have that magic calming ability. Yet, he tried.

"Come on" he prompted as Lance still gagged effortlessly, his stomach empty even of its own bile at this point.

"You don't seem to have a fever, so we can exclude food poisoning and flu," he thought out loud, following the most logical path, "we can exclude overeating as well, since you skipped two meals in a row. Seasick? No, that's stupid. Spacesick, maybe?" he slapped himself mentally, "definitely not".

Keith was no medic, he knew no other illnesses concerning the stomach.

He got dragged out of his stream of consciousness as Lance's form unexpectedly slid sideways, crumpling on the cold floor in a heap.

"Shit, Lance!" Keith yelled terrified, quickly getting him into a sitting position again, the boy's back against the Japanese's chest, his brunet head against his boney shoulder, shaking as his teeth clattered.

Keith noticed that his teammate's blue eyes, though dazed, were still half open, mouth open in a desperate attempt to breathe in some oxygen.

"Lance, hey, what is it? Talk to me, please" Keith begged. He was running out of ideas here.

What was causing Lance so much pain? Had his appendix burst? Or was it his stomach? Maybe something got busted in a fight and it went unnoticed until now?

He considered the idea to run and get help, but he didn't want to leave Lance like this, so trembling and out of it.

The Japanese pondered, worriedly glancing toward Lance. He'd never seen him like that, seemingly cathatonic, unaware of everything, in pain yet almost imperturbable. 

It was unsettling, and Keith didn't like it.

What was bothering Lance so much?

The answer came when Allura knocked on the door, furiously, and stomped in yelling about the training.

Lance, whose stomach had stayed put for twenty doboshes or so, gagged violently as he shuddered, and flung onto the toilet bowl again, vomiting more viscous liquid inside of it. Tears spilled from his eyes, but those remained distant and upsettingly cold.

The Princess's gem eyes widened in disbelief and shame, and she profoundly apologised immediately, panicked and mortified. After a quick chat with Keith, the two came to a conclusion: Lance was sick indubitably.

Yet, the Red Paladin diagnosis had been far from correct.

At the mention of the special training, Lance's body tensed up, stomach churning (and Keith tested the theory by mentioning it again. He would apologize later), so the illness must have been related to that.

Keith cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose for he had ignored the most obvious hypothesis.

Anxiety.

They had all seen Lance being dragged into a spiral of panic, his legs suddenly giving out, his speech getting faster, hands clammy and eyes darting from one person to another. Still, it had never been so... Physical.

Allura apologised once more and left in a hurry, kissing the boy's forehead maternally.

The others eventually came a few doboshes later, but left upon witnessing that Keith had everything under control after he mouthed them that Lance needed space.

Hunk brought a glass of water for each of the two, and went off to make soup. Shiro brought a blanket and covered Keith and Lance, as the first thanked him, turning his head towards him, and the other just stared forward, seemingly unaware.

Coran brought pills that could treat stomach bugs, hoping that they would work for anything concerning the guts. Pidge offered a piece of advice- Matt apparently suffered from anxiety too when he was little- as they caressed Lance's damp hair back, whispering soft words. 

Those all helped, and the Cuban seemed to relax.

His stomach spasmed again, but nothing came up. It happened a few times, Lance shuddering violently minutes before and after the painful effort.

Each time, Keith held his hair back and massaged his back, saying reassuring words that seemed absurd, but since it worked, he didn't stop.

They stayed like that for an undetermined amount of time, Lance slumped against Keith and occasionally gagging effortlessly, the Japanese feeling clueless and useless for his teammate.

"Lance," he spoke after a while, since the vomiting spell seemed to have lessened, "are you with me?".

Lance gave a tiny nod.

"Do you think you can sit with your back against the wall instead of me? I need to get you water and a clean shirt...".

Another nod, weak.

At that, Keith gently and delicately wrapped his arms around the other's torso, careful not to jostle him too much and to make his stomach stay put, and rolled him away from him, dragging him a foot or two to let him rest his back against the wall, the toilet bowl immediately next to him.

Keith got up and stretched quickly, his back and ass achy for sitting like that for too long, and gently brought the glass to Lance's lips.

"Small sips, please" he instructed, and Lance reluctantly obeyed with a groan, making Keith feeling a bit ressured.

After gladly witnessing that Lance could keep the water down, Keith ran the water for a whole dobosh, testing if the water was warm enough every now and then, and filled the bath, not sure on how Lance liked it but making a guess. He threw in something that he hoped were bath salts and bubbles, and waited, sitting on the rim of the tub as he eyed Lance worriedly.

The Cuban remained silent.

Keith stripped him down to his boxers- _I'll spare him the dignity, he's had enough_ \- and guided Lance into the water, minding that his head never slid under.

A few doboshes later, after washing the Cuban's sweaty hair too, Keith quickly dried his teammate's body and put a clean shirt on him. Hesitant on how to proceed, he sighed.

"Can you change your boxers? If not, I can-"

"I... I'll do it" Lance replied softly. Keith handed him a towel and a pair of dry briefs and turned around, not stepping away for fear that his friend would be sick again.

After a few tics, Lance was done and promptly guided to his bed, near which Keith had placed a bucket just in case.

"Do you, huh," Keith stuttered, "do you want me to leave..? Or... Maybe talk about this..?" he asked unsure.

Lance shook his head, "Stay, please..."

"Sure, okay" Keith replied, dragging the desk's chair next to the bed and sitting on it, back straight and fists tight in worry.

He didn't know what to do, but it was his fault if Lance was like this, and he didn't want to hurt him further.

Keith had suggested the training exercise finalised to make Lance better; he was the one who had joked about his lack of fighting skills, he had made his teammate, no, his friends feel inadequate, sending him to his knees, quite literally.

It was his fault.

"...Sorry," he breathed out at the realisation of what he'd done, "I crossed the line... I... I fucked up big time, I'm so sorry, Lance"

"Don't... I'm... I'm the one who's sorry" the Blue Paladin murmured, pillows propping him into an upright position, his head turned away to avoid Keith's gaze, "I should be able to help you win a war... And..." he laughed bitterly, "I can't even win over my anxiety... I'm a fraud"

"No, you're not".

Lance didn't want to hear it, and Keith knew that his words would have fallen on deaf ears were he to say those now.

Another time.

"...Thank you, Keith. I'm tired now, so…" Lance breathed out, falling into a light slumber, mentally and physically exhausted.

Keith nodded, and sat back down, watching Lance snore softly.

They would have to talk about all of this... In the meantime, he just hoped that Lance would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T READ AND RUN!  
> Leave kudos and comments if you liked this, please.


	2. day two: broken bone + chained up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: broken bone, blood, chained up character, (not detailed) vomiting, insecurities.

That hadn’t been a good idea, Lance had to admit. He should have probably consulted the others before beginning the failure that this solo mission had been; he should have warned someone that he was leaving, should have told them where he was headed and why.

Well, maybe he could have kept his reasons for himself.

He huffed out a weak laugh at the thought of him just telling his team ‘ _ hey, I need to prove you guys that I’m a worthy member of Voltron, so I’ll go scouting ahead and free some prisoners or something!’. _

Shiro would be so mad at him if he found it.  _ If  _ he found him, mostly.

\- a whole quintant earlier -

Dimming Blue’s lights to be even more invisible in the night, Lance landed a couple of miles away from where the prison supposedly was, hiding Blue in the gloomy woods for better cover. Grabbing his blaster and securing his helmet, he stepped out of the Lion, sparing her a look. 

“Stay here, girl” he reassured, smiling tenderly.

A worried purr invaded his brain, a warm feeling of actually being loved spreading in Lance’s chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful, Blue… I’ll be back in two vargas tops, okay? Now I have to go”

Another incessant purring sound, filled with concern and fear, rocked its way through his skull, the rush of emotions actually making Lance slightly dizzy. He reassured his Lion once more, and after witnessing her raising the particle barrier, he left in a rush.

The soft patting of his swift footsteps on the squishy undergrowth allowed him to be silent and untrackable, night vision mode activated since the moon- or, well, the equivalent of that in this system- shone pale in the night.

A few doboshes later, the Blue Paladin finally reached the prison, and snuck in without much noise. That was strange, though.

Where were the security guards? Had they implanted silent alarms? But no, not a single light was shining in there, and the place seemed abandoned. Lance activated the heat vision function in his helmet to scan for living beings, but found none.   


_ How’s it possible? Was the intel incorrect?  _

Still, he decided to scan the whole building for safe measure, not wanting to inadvertently leave someone behind. He paced the corridors, glancing into every room to spot creatures in need for help, or even Galra soldiers, but only found empty cells, and rather clean too.

Honestly, before leaving, he’d mentally prepared himself for gruesome splotches of blood smeared on the walls, for chopped-up bodies laying dead on the floor or on creepy medical cots, the lights flickering anxiously.

He scoffed. Maybe Keith was right, he did watch too many movies…

Not even a varga later, he’d searched the whole place, not skipping a single cell nor tiny room he’d found; he looked inside the empty cabinets and wardrobes, under the cots, in what he presumed were the guard’s lodgings, but he found absolutely nothing.

On one hand, Lance was relieved: knowing that one of the presumed ‘worst jails’ was just a bunch of emptiness was one less thing Voltron had to waste time on, after all. Yet, on the other hand, he feared that he’d wasted his only opportunity to show his heroic side.

That was egotistical of him and he felt guilty for that, but if it could bring him any validation and raise his self-esteem only in the slightest, then it was worth it.

Sighing defeated, he decided to make his way toward Blue again, pacing sheepishly, blaster still held high, just in case.

Lance didn’t notice he was humming until a cracking sound erupted from behind him, making him spin rapidly around. A single bot, unarmed, stood before him, fire eyes glowing in the dark.

He didn’t even hesitate to shoot it down, a precise blast hitting the thing in the middle of its torso. Still, it didn’t fall down as Lance had planned. 

_ Shit... _

It just stood there unmoving, staring with lifeless eyes toward the young man and making him shudder a bit. What was going on? Lance didn’t understand, but shot again, and again, and again. The effect remained the same.

It was his cue to run, and fast; he had to get out of there, he could do it. He was in that place to free prisoners, not to be butchered by creepy bots, right? That wasn’t his job, he had nothing to do with it.

So he ran. Slim, muscled legs made their way out of the prison, taking every turn with absolute certainty- Lance had, indeed, good memory- and not planning on stopping.

The bot wasn’t behind him, from what he knew, but that didn’t mean he would stop. Absolutely not.

He felt like a little kid running up the stairs after turning the basement lights off, scared that a presence would follow him and grab him by his skinny ankle, dragging him down into the empty void, unheard and forsaken.

The Blue Paladin panted, still fleeing, lactic acid grounding him painfully.

He would not call for backup, he could handle it. It was just one bot, one singular bot. Seemingly immortal, but still a bot.

Lost in his trance, he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching him from every direction until he was forced to skid to a halt to avoid headbutting yet another bot.

“Fuck, fuck…”

Lance found himself surrounded by a dozen of bots resembling the first he’d met, their eyes glowing red. However, these ones carried blasters, and that wasn’t optimal.

Without further notice- why was he even expecting it?- they started firing at him simultaneously. He dodged the lasers pretty well, but when the back of a blaster hit him in the nape with a loud crack, he saw stars and conked out, his body falling in a heap with a loud thud.

He came to shortly after, groaning loudly; he was being dragged, a metal hand painfully gripping the back of his collar. The sound of his body being hoisted roughly against the metal floor was the only thing that could be heard, except for the steady footsteps of whoever- or whatever- had taken him

Lance tried to pry, tired eyes rolling slightly to peek at his captor. It was a bot, one of those from earlier judging by the blast mark on its shoulder.

He cursed under his breath.

_ I fucked up, I knew it. Oh, Lance, Lance Lance Lance, can’t do anything right, huh..?  _ he chanted internally.

One thing that, however, made him glad, was that his helmet was still on. If before calling for backup seemed unnecessary, now it was absolutely vital, a matter of life and death.

Rapidly, he brought his left hand up, pressing on the side of the helmet and activating the comm-link, silenced until then, “Guys, I need he-” he didn’t even begin his request for help that the bot halted,and in the blink of an eye it grabbed Lance’s wrist, yanking it away from his head and holding it up in the air.

“Ouch- hey!” 

The bot’s grip tightened, cutting the circulation off, and Lance winced loudly, struggling against the hold. 

What kind of bots were even those? They’d never been so strong, so rapid,  _ so lethal..! _

But the grip didn’t loosen, and Lance could distinctly feel the bones inside starting to hurt, cracking loudly along the cartilage in the wrist; sweat dripped from his bangs under his helmet, his pupils shrunk, scleras taking up the majority of the space in his eyes.

_ Fuck _ , it was going to break it.

Lance’s brain immediately went blank at that: what good was it if he couldn’t even hold a blaster? What would Voltron do with him? They’d be better off without a crippled, replaceable man, wouldn’t they? He wasn’t a natural born leader like Allura, he didn’t have Shiro’s fighting skills, nor Keith’s agility in flying. Lance wasn’t as smart as Pidge and Hunk, and didn’t know a third of the things Coran said. He wasn’t a valuable member of the team, just someone who had happened to be compatible with one Lion for a mystic coincidence.

The unbearable pain in his wrist brought him back to reality, the whole arm bent painfully and awkwardly, bones now certainly starting to break. His vision whitened as soon as a bone- ulna, probably- pierced the skin, protruding shards causing the torn flesh to bleed.

Lance screamed, and not only for the pain.

The cracking continued, bot impassable in front of the boy’s utter agony, his legs kicking effortlessly as his mind went numb, just trying to free himself, to get away.

God, he wanted his mamá now. And Shiro, and Coran, and Allura, and Keith, and Hunk, and Pidge. He wanted his family and friends to save him, to loll him to sleep, reassuring him that it was only a nightmare, that he was fine, that his bones were intact, that he still could fight, that he wasn’t  _ useless _ . 

He was still yelling out in pain; he didn’t notice it though.

Lance prayed to God, prayed whatever was up there to save him, promised to be good, to be obedient if they would just help him.

Finally, blissfully, his vision whitened once again, this time sending him to rest, undisturbed, unaware of the pain.

-an unspecified amount of time later - 

He wasn’t going to make it, he was never going to escape.

Lance didn’t know how long he’d been awake for since his black out, he really didn’t.

When he’d woken up, he noticed that he felt cold. Hadn’t Coran turned on the heaters tonight? God, he was so cold…

Then, the dawning realisation came, memories dizzying him and sending a wave of nausea to his stomach. 

His brunet head- hair caked with blood and dust- slammed faintly into the wall behind, the metal chain around his neck feeling tight and uncomfortable. He sat on the dirty floor of a humid and dark cell, somewhere on that forsaken planet, arms painfully stretched above his head, cuffs marking his wrists painfully as blood dripped from the left one.

_ Right, that… _ He’d forgotten about it.

What upset Lance was that his indubitably broken wrist felt numb, crismon liquid dripping steadily but slowly; the cuff, though painfully tight, was padding the wound, raw bone hitting the inside of the cuff, but still it stammered the bleeding, which was good.

Lance’s ocean eyes gingerly lowered, witnessing that he’d been stripped of his armor, undersuit leaving his arms half uncovered, his whole body shaking at the realisation of the chilly draught in the tiny room, no bigger than forty square inches.

Shiro would be so mad at him if he found it.  _ If  _ he found him, mostly.

The small puddle of vomit next to him made him realize that it probably wasn’t the first time he’d woken up, too dizzy and in agony to even remember it. His stomach felt queasy, hands and forehead sweating bucks, lips chapped and throat dry. Yes, he must have thrown up before.

It was normal, he knew it. Broken bones have that effect sometimes… Still, knowing it didn’t make it less scary.

Lance sighed, swallowing his raw throat, and breathed in and out slowly. He was alone, injured and abandoned. Nobody knew where he was, he didn’t know for how long he’d been missing, he didn’t know if someone would even bother looking for his corpse.

He shook his head. 

_ Corpse _ .

He would die there. He would bleed out and die. They would starve him, torture him, break each of his bones and wait for him to perish in agony. They would probably send his corpse back home as a message for Voltron.

The young paladin could already picture his teammates’ struck expressions at the sight, followed by the disdain and annoyance of having to find another suitable pilot for Blue. Or maybe not, since Allura seemed to be eager to take his place. 

Lance huffed out a laugh, soft, resigned. He didn’t hear the four Lions roaring loudly outside the base, nor he heard the footsteps approaching his cell a few doboshes later. 

He just sat there, tied up and bloody, long lost in his nightmares.


	3. day three: drugged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: non-consensual drug use, fever, vomiting, hallucinations.  
> (translation of the parts in Spanish will be found in the end notes).

Why was it always him? Why couldn't they send him to scout a tropical island with crystal-clear water and bright, warm sun? 

No, it always had to be abandoned labs. Every single time the team had a suspect that subjects were being experimented on in a Galra base, he was in charge of the labs.

"You're not scared of needles nor blood," Allura had pointed out at his objections, "Shiro could get easily triggered by seeing torture devices, and Hunk would not be able to tolerate that. No offence, Hunk"

"None taken, it's true!"

"Then what about Keith!? Or Pidge, maybe?" 

"Pidge's in charge of intel and tech, the most important part in this kind of mission, we can't risk their incolumity"

"But you can risk mine!? And, again, Mullet's still there..." he yelled, crossing his arms.

"Keith is a swordsman, needed on the battlefield. Furthermore, you are admittedly the most observant between the two" the Princess praised, trying to make it seem like she was not saying that Lance was worth sacrificing. He was not.

Allura respected him and valued him as a Paladin and as a friend, but he was, in all honesty, more suited for scouting duty than Keith.

"...Fine" he breathed out, "Coran, tell me what to do".

The ginger man fiddled with his moustache, "We have received intel that a dangerous substance, commonly known as Slyxa, is being kept there by the Galra. We do not know its effects with absolute accuracy yet, but if you succeeded in retrieving even just a small sample, we would be able to synthetize an antidote and then free the gwen pigs-"

"It's guinea pigs..."

"Right, thanks Shiro. So, is everything clear?"

Lance's bewildered expression was a clear sign that no, it wasn't. _Not at all._

"Y-you guys are sending me in a lab where they keep a lethal poison or something and you don't know anything about its effects!?"

"We do know something..."

"Which would be?"

"The substance is bright blue!" the man chirped out, unaware that the info did not help one bit.

"Great. Fucking great..."

"Lance-"

"No, Allura, don’t... I'll leave in a dobosh, just gotta get my shit ready" he exhaled weakly, exiting the room rapidly.

_Wow, Lance, congrats, you're officially been degraded to 'worth sacrificing', good job!_

Quick steps followed him, but he kept pacing.

"Leave me alone, Mullet. I'm not in the mood"

"Lance, listen, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't, I don't need your pity"

A scoff, "I am not pitying you, idiot. I'm... Sincerely mortified that you are the one who always has to do this shit"

"Then why don't you tell that to Shiro and Allura, huh?" the Blue Paladin smirked bitterly, finally stopping and turning around, "really, just... Just stop. I'll be late if you keep wasting my time". That said, he turned around and left again, headed to the hangar. 

Lance felt a bit of remorse for snapping at his friend again, but swallowed it down. _I really don't have time for this now._

Keith too felt mortified, upset and angry. He couldn't tell them. He couldn't tell _him._

God, he felt so ashamed. He didn't have PTSD like Shiro, he wasn't clinically weak of stomach like Hunk, nor 'fundamental to the mission' like Pidge. Keith was a twenty year-old man, yet anything medical scared the crap out of him, and he felt pathetic.

They- the people at the home- had told him that it was a wide-spread problem, nothing to be ashamed of.

Yet, he couldn't help it: him, the Red Paladin of Voltron, a Defender of the Universe, was scared of needles; even when he had to have his blood drawn, he'd promptly vomit and then pass out.

Since he'd dropped out and ran away a few years prior, he stopped doing those, thanking the sky for the pods who did everything without poking metal stabby pins inside of him.

Keith knew he needed to tell the team, to tell _Lance_ above all. He would, once this mission had been completed.

\- roughly one varga later -

Lance landed just outside the base, Blue roaring loudly. He didn't care if they'd hear him.

_Let them come, bring it on._

He jumped off his Lion, shooting his way through the bots, one hit sending two or three of them to the floor, deactivated. He ran, focused, the map projected inside of his helmet in the far right of the visor.

The Paladin was actually thankful for the bots, since usually those meant that living beings were busy elsewhere.

He quickly reached the lab, blaster turning back to his basic form, and he immediately started rummaging through the phials, ignoring those who didn't contain 'bright blue' liquid. He was focused, determined to end this mission rapidly and without any interference. Truth is, Lance was angry too, furious, to precise.

He thought of what Allura had said.

 _"Keith is needed on the battlefield". So I'm not? Last time I checked, I was part of Voltron too, not some delivery guy! Am I suddenly not worth having on the team? How nice. Ah, no, why am I worrying? Of course they'll keep me, who else would they send on stupid fucking missions? Oh, don't worry, Lancey-Lance will go retrieve your goddamn Slyxa_ he snarled in his head, still looking for the substance " _hey, I have some free time, maybe I should get dinner ready or tidy your room up, huh?" Honestly, why do I even bother anymore..?_

At last, he found it.

A long, thin phial, bright blue liquid in it: to be fair, that substance looked like detergent to Lance, so viscous and colored. He didn't want to agitate it, so he opened the wrist compartment in his armor, ready to place the glass tube in it.

Spinning around, his heart skipped a beat.

_No... No no no no no no no-_

"Isn't that the famous Blue Paladin of Voltron?" the figure before him snarled, clapping their four hands.

The creature was covered head to toe, hazmat suit dirtied with what was _definitely_ not blood, Lance hoped, mask making it impossible to see their face. Rubber boots approached Lance, the figure humming.

"What is it, boy? Can I help you?" it asked, looking at what he had in his gloved hand, "Ah, I see you found the Slyxa. I'm glad Voltron has finally come to know my work!" the creature exclaimed enthusiastically.

"You created this shit?"

"I would not define it like that, boy. It's not easy to create something so refined in a relatively short time..." the creature clicked their tongue in disappointment, "my, today's youth... Perhaps you would like to try the Slyxa and change your mind?" they questioned sarcastically, approaching Lance who stood frozen in fear.

He snapped out of it as soon as the creature's hand grasped his shoulder; without thinking twice, he grabbed the beyard- turning it into a blaster in a nanosecond- and shot.

Or that's what he tried to do, before he witnessed a needle- _where did that come from..?_ \- sticking out of his neck.

He briefly wondered why such a vital point was not well covered by the armor, and why mean aliens always had such fast reflexes, before his body fe in a heap, face forward, and he knew no more.

\- an unidentified amount of time later -

Lance's body spasmed in Keith's hold, and he immediately eased him down onto the floor.

"Lance, Lance! Shit, h-help him!" the Red Paladin begged, Shiro glancing at him worriedly from the pilot seat, Coran running toward him.

"Don't restrain him, he may hurt himself further" he ordered firmly, extending his arm to make Keith step back forcefully. He cursed.

They had let him go alone. No, scratch that, they had forced him to go in there alone, aware of the risks, not listening to what he had to say.

They put the mission above Lance's _life_.

Keith felt sick to his stomach at the sight of his teammate who was currently seizing on the Black Lion's floor; he seemed semi-conscious, and strangled cries escaped his lips, limbs tense and back arching impossibly.

Coran stroked his damp hair back, murmuring soft words of reassurance while also communicating his status to the three who'd stayed at the Castle.

 _"The pod's ready!"_ Hunk screamed on the other side of the comm, absolutely frantic.

"I fear this might not work for him, lad. Pods are meant to treat injuries, but this..." he trailed off, looking at the tiny monitor in his hand.

Lance's blood pressure was beyond high, heart racing rapidly; whatever they had given him was sending the boy into shock, pain wrecking him from inside. His muscles contracted randomly, his body resembling a crumpled sheet of old paper.

"How is he?" Shiro asked anxiously from his seat, rapidly looking behind him to ascertain the situation, "w-we're almost there! Hang on, Lance, okay? Kiddo?"

Keith swallowed, sitting helplessly next to the ill paladin, "Shiro, I'm- I'm not sure he can hear y-"

"AHH, ¡déjame ir, hijos de puta, haz que pare, Dios mío!"

The three exchanged worried looks, and an instant later they simultaneously started yelling instructions through the comm-links, panicking, fearing for their friend's life.

A couple of doboshes later, Shiro sprinted out of Black with Lance cradled in his buff arms, running madly fast toward the infirmary where Allura, Hunk and Pidge had prepared whatever they had, hoping for the equipment to be useful in this dire situation.

"Place him here, hurry!" the Princess yelled, and the Japanese man easied Lance down on the cot, gingerly.

Keith and Coran arrived too, panting.

The oldest man approached the machines and hooked Lance up to a heart monitor and ran another scan, more sophisticated than the previous one, expert hands quick and certain hovering above the paladin's spasming body.

"Pidge," he called, "go to the main lab and get ready all the biochemical substances you can find, then start the synthesizing machines. As soon as you do that, come back so that I can give you a blood sample. Hunk, help them and in the meantime fetch lots of rags and a bucket of cold water. Go!!"

They left in a hurry, sparing their friend a look. Lance was still spasming, cries escaping tightly gritted teeth, head rolling effortlessly.

"¡Voy a m-matarme si esto no para!'' he screamed, "Dios mío, esto quema... ¡Saca eso de aqui!" he yelled, hands gripping the armor on his chest, nails painfully digging through it in a faint attempt to free himself of whatever was bothering him.

"Lance, no, stop!" Keith hurried, prying his hands away and getting promptly punched in the jaw for his effort, "f-fuck, Lance, you're going to hurt yourself!!" he tried again, managing to grab the Cuban's wrists, "We need to restrain him now!".

Allura nodded, "Shiro, come with me, hurry, I have an idea!" she yelled, running away followed by the team leader.

"Come on, Lance, you have to fight it! Fight it, man, I know you can do it!!".

But Lance seemed to be anywhere but there with him, eyes scrunched in pain and clearly dazed when open, mouth gaping in a faint attempt to get oxygen in, his whole body shaking so much that he would have fallen down the bed if Keith had not been pinning him down.

Coran rapidly inserted an IV into Lance's hand, the Red Paladin screeching inadvertently, paling rapidly.

"S-shit, Coran, wh-"

"It's okay, go sit down and have some water, Number Four. I know about your fear"

"H-how?"

Coran didn't raise his gaze, still fighting to secure the needle with medical tape, "I just do, and you don't have to be ashamed. Though I really need your help now, if you're up to it- ouch, Number Three, stop-" the man struggled, Lance kicking his feet in the air.

"Por favor, mátame. ¡Mátame ahora! ¡Dios, me duele, me duele! Gahh-" pink frot formed at the corner of his quivering mouth, and Keith actually felt himself shaking, consciousness slipping away. 

Coran's gem eyes widened, "Shit, this isn't good..."

At that, Keith actually stumbled, and held tight onto the edge of the bed for dear life, trying to ground himself and blink away the dark spots that danced across his fuzzy vision.

"It reached his bloodstream, this- this is very bad. Where are the others!?" Coran screamed, running a hand through his hair. As if on cue, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro and Allura rushed in. The last two promptly hooked make-shift padded cuffs to the metal parts of the cot, grabbing Lance's limbs and securing them- carefully trying to rip the IV out and to not be kicked in the face- while the brainy duo asked informed Coran that they were ready. 

The Altean man immediately prepared yet another needle, Keith's stomach twisting uncomfortably, sending waves of dizziness to his head, skin clammy and white as snow.

Coran noticed and put himself between the two younger boys, shielding the scene with his body: he drew some blood from Lance, who screamed even further- not for the pain, but for having another needle stuck in him, the ones at the lab had been far enough. He let out cries that were excruciating to hear, heart-wrecking, as he fought against the restraints, tears streaming down his uncharacteristically grey skin.

"¡N-no más, por favor!" he begged, not understood by anyone, "¿por qué me haces esto? No sé nada, y-yo no soy nadie... ¡Por favor, ten piedad! Ya me tienes, ¿no? E-entonces hazlo, ¡mátame! No puedo más..." he begged, tears spilling from his eyes, back arching further.

None of them knew Spanish, but they could all recognize the tone one used for begging mercy, and this made them realise the terrible truth: Lance was scared to death of them.

He thought they were someone else, someone who wanted to hurt him again.

Keith's stomach finally lurched, the boy barely getting to the nearby trash can in time to empty the content of his stomach. Shiro patted his back, his own face pale and grim. 

The others too sat down, shaking violently, and not a word could be heard if not Lance's incoherent mumbling, occasionally interrupted by screams.

After an instant, Coran went back to work, though his gaze seemed cathatonic. God, how he hated seeing these young people in pain. They were so young, so naive, so small and unaware of what was out there.

Or maybe not... Still, they were his children to him. His literal children.

A gasp was torn from him when Lance's nose started bleeding profusely as well, "No, no no no, not this-" the man cursed, turning Lance's head on the side, a wet cloth immediately being placed on his forehead by Allura, "w-what do we do now?" 

"We need to synthetize an antitode, but first we need to understand what the fuck they have given him... Though it's going to take time since we don't have a sample of this drug"

"Then hurry!" Pidge yelled, desperately anxious for their friend, "I'll help! W-we can think of something"

Shiro guided Keith to a chair, sorry to leave him alone but forced to do so in order to help Lance, "Should we strip him down or-"

"¡¡NO!! N-no me toques, ¡por favor!"

Hunk thanked those absurd telenovelas Lance had made him watch, and immediately shot forward, blocking Shiro's hands, "Don't do it!"

"Hunk, we have to-"

"He said don't do it, he- he doesn't want to be touched now"

"But we have no choice!" Allura cut in, "were we to insert more IVs, we wouldn't have space. Furthermore, the armor increases his body temperature, which is too high per-se..." she explained, nodding at the monitor that signaled the Altean equivalent of 104°F, "if we don't do that, he could have some brain damage"

"Fuck, fuck, o-okay... But be quick..." Hunk pleaded, putting himself next to Lance's head and caressing it soothingly, "Everything will be alright, buddy. Can you understand me? It's Hunk... I'm right here. We all are..."

His words fell on deaf ears, Lance's body still tensing up and relaxing at random intervals, words that made little sense to everybody escaping his lips, strangled cries erupting from deep down his throat.

Shiro and Allura took advantage of the distraction and started stripping Lance down, starting to work from below without causing too much discomfort.

Lance, though, seemed to sense that, struggling further and begging to be ended there and now.

He couldn't take this anymore, he couldn't. 

The beeping of the heart monitor made that very clear, spiking incredibly fast, the loud screech of the machine sending Keith into a spiral of panic as he crawled toward the bin and vomited once more. Hunk cried but kept murmuring soft words in his friend's ear, Pidge taking one tense hand into theirs and massaging it delicately, tears pricking the corner of their honey eyes.

"His heart-"

"Allura, prepare a shot of adrenaline now!!"

"Fuck, fuck, he isn't-"

"Oxygen, give him some oxygen!"

Allura came back an instant later with a shot of adrenaline, placed on the table nearby because _no_ , they were not going to _need_ that, Lance would be okay, he would be fine and calm down on his own.

Shiro placed an oxygen mask on Lance's face, but since he was shaking too much, the Japanese man decided to opt for the canulas, and inserted those under the Cuban's tiny nostrils that were not bleeding anymore. Still, he was careful not to hurt him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he chanted while touching Lance, whose body spasmed once more. His fingers clawed at the bed, fingernails breaking and bleeding, teeth starting to make actual noise from how much he was gritting them.

"We have to put something in his mouth-"

"On it!" Pidge screamed, and immediately grabbed a small handkerchief, folding it and placing it in their friend's mouth so that he wouldn't break his teeth, bite his tongue or swallow the piece of cloth itself.

That was a mistake: Lance gagged hard, choking on his own vomit as it spilled from the frotted sides of his mouth, and Pidge all but shoved their hand in his mouth to remove the handkerchief and turn his head once more, vomit spilling from his lips and splotching loudly onto the floor.

At the same time, Keith threw up again, the situation too overwhelming for him.

The vomiting spell stopped, and the Cuban passed out without a sound, eyes still half open, creepily empty.

Shiro ran to reassure Keith, and Allura continued stripping down Lance; she gasped loudly once she reached the arm-pad.

"I can't believe it..!"

"Allura, what is it-"

She interrupted the advisor by raising a small phial. The liquid inside of it was bright blue. 

Lance... Lance had successfully retrieved the Slyxa. He did it.

That was a minor consolation, because at least this pain he was going through hadn't been in vain.

Pidge's eyes widened behind the round glasses, as they shouted to be heard above the commotion, "Guys, I think that Slyxa is what they have given him!" 

"How do you-"

"Watch" they said, grabbing the phial and putting it into Lance's visual field, "Lance, Lance!! Listen to me, it's Pidge. Listen to me, okay? Follow me. Is this what they gave you?" they said, mouthing the words in the best way possible to be even more understandable, "Snap out of it, Lance, please!! Did they give you Slyxa-"

"GAHH, ¡NO MÁS!"

"They- they definitely gave him that" the scholar concluded, shocked, "I-I'll go synthesize an antidote!" 

"I'm coming with you" Hunk and Coran said simultaneously, and left in a hurry.

The Princess applied another cloth to Lance's forehead, dragging it to clean his neck and mouth, washing it again and proceeding to freshen his face. Then, she cleaned the floor and the dirty bed, not wanting Lance to wake up feeling nasty and gross.

Shiro escorted Keith to another cot once he stopped throwing up, giving him a glass of water and apologising before going to Lance's bedside again, continuing to strip him down.

He came to as soon as Shiro's prosthetic landed on his now bare calf, a faint attempt to kick him away, "Por favor, yo no sé nada, ¿entiendes? No me cuentan demasiado, s-soy el muchacho de la entrega" he said, sounding sardonic, "no sé nada..."

“What is he saying, Shiro?” she asked the man who was checking up on Keith, dozing in and out of consciousness on one of the cots.

“I-I have no idea, honestly…” he admitted, approaching Lance again “but it can’t be good. He reverted to his native language, he’s in shock”

“How do you know that?” Allura wondered, still working to cool Lance down.

The man sighed, removing the last piece of armor and leaving Lance in his undersuit, “I do that too, sometimes. When- when it gets bad, I...”

“I understand… I’m sorry about that, Shiro” the Princess muttered, eyes low.

She met Lance’s gaze, whose eyes were fogged and lost, pupils blown and darting around, breath hitched and uneven.

“You’ll be okay...” she said, smothering him as she caressed his damp hair back.

“M-mamá... ” he breathed out, eyes rolling sheepishly, exhausted body trying to move effortlessly, “no me siento muy bien, mamá...”

Her heart ached, for even if she didn’t know this Spanish everybody mentioned, Allura still could understand the word ‘mom’.

The princess sighed, heartbroken but willing to help in any possible way, “Yes, it’s me, baby… I’m here… You’ll be okay, Lance”.

Shiro looked up, smiling tenderly; Allura was really trying her best. He knew she felt extremely guilty: yes, she had said the truth when she told Lance that he was the best candidate for the mission, but she should have thought about this. She should have sent someone with him, herself either, if anybody was willing to go.

“I’m so sorry, Lance, it’s all my fault” she whispered, a tear falling down her face and on Lance’s, “I’ll make this up to you, I promise”

The boy seemed to relax at the soothing accented voice, still not really understanding what was being said; however, the voice was comforting, friendly, making him feel safe. That was enough.

A varga later, they were all satisfied with the fact that Lance had seized only twice and for a short time, seeming a bit more cognizant; when Coran hooked him up to the antidote him, Pidge and Hunk had managed to synthesized rapidly, the Cuban boy freaked out, thrashing against the restraints and shouting his lungs out. The amount of stress that his body had undergone through was unimaginable, and he blissfully fainted, knocked out for good.

Time passed with him not seeming to come around, the team fearing that he was going to die. Yet, his heart kept beating, a bit too rapidly but still not alarmingly fast, skin regaining its original tinge more and more as time went by.

They decided to take turns: Hunk left first, off to prepare food for them all, then Pidge, who needed to synthetize more of the antidote _just in case_. After that, Allura as well left, promising to come back shortly after informing the coalition of their success, and of the days off they were going to get after the terrible experience. Coran left but never left that wing of the corridor, ready to jump in for the rescue.

Shiro sat next to Lance’s back, his turn to take watch finishing in a couple of vargas.

He jumped on his chair when Keith approached them, swaying slightly but never losing his footing; his step-brother eyed him worriedly, “Should you be standing already?”

A nod, “I’m fine now. I’m sorry, you had to worry about me too when I clearly wasn’t the priority-”

“Sh’t up...” Lance groaned from his position, and Keith and Shiro obeyed, tense and holding their breath. Was Lance starting to hallucinate again? Was he going to start begging for mercy? Should they get Coran-?

“Keith… ‘s not yo’ fault...” he added, voice barely a whisper, eyes still shut, “I w’s angry ‘n stupid ‘n I lowered m’ guard… My fault”

“No, no, Lance, no, it’s not!” Keith yelled and went behind the cot, overwhelmed by emotions as tears streamed down his face, because Lance was alive, he was okay, he was there with him, he was breathing. But it had been _too close_ , too dangerous. Had they found him two doboshes later, they may have left that place with a corpse.

“I’m so sorry, I’m a piece of shit, I shouldn’t have made you go alone,” he whispered, cradling the boy’s head in his hands, foreheads touching, “f-forgive me, Lance”.

Shiro breathed out softly in relief, stepping out of the room, not going far but just leaving them enough privacy.

The Cuban smiled weakly, “‘s okay…”.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay that he had almost died, it wasn’t okay that he had been one step away from his grave.

War, however, did that to people: it made them _not_ okay. He cried, leaking water like a broken dam, and Keith followed him immediately, relief and anxiety washing out of them.

  
It wasn’t okay, but maybe, _maybe_ it would be someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> •¡Déjame ir, hijos de puta! H-haz que pare, Dios mío... = let me go, you sons of bitches! My God, make it stop...  
> •¡Voy a matarme si esto no para! = I'm going to kill myself if this doesn't stop!  
> •Dios mío, esto quema... ¡Saca eso de aquí! = oh God, it burns... Get it out of here!  
> •Por favor, mátame. ¡Mátame ahora! ¡Dios, me duele, me duele! = please, kill me. Kill me now! God, it hurts, it hurts!  
> •¡N-no más, por favor! = n-no more, please!  
> •por qué me haces esto? No sé nada, y-yo no soy nadie... ¡ Por favor, ten piedad! Ya me tienes, ¿no? E-entonces hazlo, ¡mátame! No puedo más... = Why are you doing this to me? I don't know anything, I'm a nobody... Please, have mercy! You got me, right? Then do it, kill me! I can't take it anymore...  
> •¡¡NO!! N-no me toques, ¡por favor!" = No! D-don't touch me, please!  
> •Por favor, yo no sé nada, ¿entiendes? No me cuentan demasiado, s-soy el muchacho de la entrega, no sé nada... = please, I know nothing, understand? They don't tell me anything, I-I'm the delivery boy, I know nothing…  
> •no me siento muy bien, mamá… = I don’t feel so good, mom...


	4. day four: force-fed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: force-feeding, vomiting, klance.

Lance wanted to throw up. He actually did, to be fair.

This was _not_ happening to him.

It _couldn't_ be happening to him.

Had he occasion been different, Lance would’ve been on cloud nine, smiling all the way while walking among the bowing figures, acknowledging his courage and strength. Well, maybe that was a bit excessive, but honestly all the others took pride in their successes so he might as well overdo it in his fantasies.

Reality, however, was different.

-

The Blue Paladin had chosen Hesox, having heard of its crystal-clear sea and delicious food; Keith had shrugged at that, but let his partner go and have fun. Lance’s thoughts immediately went to his boyfriend, his brooding face annoyedly worrying about where that idiot could be. He let out a soft chuckle.

_With this, I’ve probably lost my privilege to wander on my own… God, he’s going to babysit me for eternity!_

The Hesoxians had started exclaiming joyfully when he’d landed, clapping and singing, the crowds moved with commotion; all of those tall, slim figures had immediately approached the paladin, bowing at his feet, kissing his dirty boots with their elongated blue lips, the one, small eye in the middle of their oval face open in what seemed amazement to him.

“At last, he came! Our savior!” some shouted, while others tried to cling to his armor. Lance felt slightly uncomfortable at that, because as long as- again- being praised did good to him, this looked a bit too excessive. He’d merely landed, not even spoken yet, and these aliens already seemed to love him and adore him more than anybody else.

“Hi, I’m Lance” he muttered, raising a gloved hand slightly in a friendly gesture and activating the instant translator device with the other, a smile widening on his tan face; his helmet indicated that the atmosphere had optimal levels of oxygen, meaning that the air was breathable enough and that he could let his head free, slightly damp hair sending a chill through his spine when it came in contact with the breeze.

“To what do we owe the honor, My Lord?” one of the Hesoxians asked, trepidant.

“Just Lance, please. Lance’s fine,” he smiled, “and, well, now that you ask… I’ve heard that you guys have nice beaches and good food and I was wondering if maybe I could-”.

A child handed him something that resembled a warm loaf of bread, its smell delicious and welcoming, “Try it! Try it!”.

He obliged with a wide grin, eyes widening at the wholesome flavour of that food, his taste buds in heaven.

“T’nks, ‘s d’licious!” he exclaimed, taking another bite, “oh m’ god, I love ‘dis”

“Come with us, My Lord,” another spoke, taking his hand gently and walking away, the crowd in front of the two stepping back to leave space, the aliens’ eyes glued on Lance, “we were just about to serve our special meal in honor of our patron deity, you shall partake to the offering!”

“I don’t think I should interrupt something like that, honestly! I- I don’t know your traditions and don’t want to offend anyone, you know...” the Cuban explained, nervous. Who could have thought that fame would cause so much anxiety?

The creature kept walking impassable, eye fixated in front of her, “Don’t fret, everything will be alright”.

Lance swallowed nervously but kept his mouth shut, taking in his surroundings: the sky was clear, whichever star was in charge of brightening and warming the planet gave a pink-ish tinge to the sky, a fresh breeze howling delicately through the trees, long and slim just like the inhabitants of the planet. He could smell something that vaguely reminded him of salt-water, the sound of waves echoing in his head- or was he actually hearing it? He couldn’t tell- as his mind brought him back to when he was a kid, running around Varadero’s streets with his siblings and their dog, playing _rayuela._

He nearly collided with the alien who was still holding his hand when she stopped walking: a huge, dimly lit cave stood before them, the air coming from its inside chilly. Lance’s nose scrunched up in confusion when he smelled something that he knew, for sure, but that he couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

“This way, My Lord” the alien spoke gently.

“Again, Lance’s more than okay, r-really” he laughed, “listen, I’m sorry but I should get going, my team is probably looking for me and-”

“Don’t fret, everything will be alright”.

He frowned. This wasn’t right, it was far from it. Lance glanced back, the crowd still behind him, their eye wide and sparkling with admiration and wonder.

The alien- _Mlahu,_ she’d told him when he asked for her name- brought the young man at the centre of the cave, which was indeed even bigger than it looked from outside; its walls were finely decorated, resembling ancient rock paintings that could be found on Earth too.

He gasped, actually mesmerized.

“Wow, this is amazing…” Lance muttered while Mlahu made him sit on a chair, more like a throne, “is this your sacred temple or something? I- I don’t know if I’m properly dressed to stay here-”.

Curse Keith and his tales about cryptics and angry ghosts; Lance had never been superstitious nor religious, but thanks to his boyfriend, who regularly lulled him to sleep, or, well, out of it with his stories and horror theories, he was now freaked out by anything that could be even remotely connected to those.

“Don’t fret,” Mlahu reassured him, and he all but rolled his eyes at the upcoming part, “everything will be alright”.

She then crouched down, hands about to remove one of Lance’s boot before he yanked the foot away, “Hey huh, what’s wrong with my boots?”

“It is not about your footwear, My Lord. The whole armor shall be removed and changed into something more appropriate”

“I- I just asked you if I was dressed properly and you said yes” Lance fretted, stomach tied in painful knots, hand about to fly and slam the emergency comm button on his helmet, which was currently tied to his hip.

“I said that everything would have been alright. And it will, once you will have removed this armor of yours, My Lord”. Mlahu's mauve eye was fixated on the boy, pupil shrunk and observant.

So Lance obeyed.

He removed everything except his briefs, much to Mlauh’s displeasure, shuddering at the chilly air. His toes curled against the freezing floor, hands attempting to rub each other and generate some warmth.

“Excellent, My Lord. Now, please, sit back” the alien asked, a hand gently pressed on Lance’s naked shoulder, pushing him down.

Lance blinked the black spots away from his vision, trembling violently, and his brain immediately went to think about the possible causes of this sudden sickness: hypothermia? No, it was way too soon and not cold enough. Anxiety? No, he was merely nervous, that was another ordreal. Drug? No, he hadn’t been injected with anything- oh. 

_Mierda._

The bread.

He lowered his eyes sheepishly, suddenly feeling heavy, and witnessed that Mlahu was crouching before him once again, securing his smil legs to the chair’s; she did the same with his wrists and torso, and all he could do was watch and whimper in discomfort, too tired to act.

“All done,” she said, smiling tenderly, “everything will be alright”

“S-say that again… And… I’ll puke…” he muttered, eyes sparkling in anger.

“Oh, that would be most unfortunate, for we want no such thing as a sick offering”

_Wait, what?_

“I’m the..?”

“Our goddess has chosen you, My Lord, to be her sacrificial offering today. You should be honoured, as only those who are worthy are taken into account by Heixo!” she exclaimed, standing up from her position, hands joined in prayer, “still, I fear you would be too skinny for her liking… We shall fix that, do not worry” she said.

“N-no, don’t to anything, please...” he pleaded because _come on!,_ he was tied to a chair, naked, cold and about to be sacrificed, what else could he do?

Mlahu placed her hand on his wet cheek- when had he started crying? It must have been the drug- and rubbed one of the two thumbs on it, soothingly, “Don’t fret, everything will be alright” she said.

For a second, they stayed like that, staring at each other, Lance waiting for her to let him go, for the Lions’ roars to wreck the sky, for Keith to run in and freeing him before anything worse could happen.

But it didn’t.

Without a warning, Mlahu grabbed Lance’s chocolate hair and yanked his head back, neck muscles screaming in agony as his throat constricted, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down uncomfortably. A strangled cry escaped his lips, and the alien immediately shoved her hand inside Lance’s mouth, prying it open. Horrible gurgling noises made their way up, the boy shocked and in pain.

He was crying now, his eyes wide and bloodshot; Lance was puffing air out of his lungs unevenly, the hand reaching the back of his throat and making him gag violently, slim fingers patting the soft palate on purpose to stimulate the gag reflex, esophagus sending bile up but not managing to actually push it out, making the acid liquid travel the tube incessantly, burning all the way up and down it.

Lance’s limbs flayed effortlessly against the restraints, his abdomen tense for the faint effort of emptying itself, snot staining Mlahu’s wrist, even if she didn’t seem to care.

She took the hand out, a thin thread of saliva between her fingers and still connected to Lance’s chin, and dug into what looked like a burlap bag, extracting another loaf from it: this one was bigger than what the child had given Lance before, and he had eaten it in four bites. This one would have taken at least ten.

Mlahu ignored that, and shoved the food down Lance’s panting mouth, him screeching in agony and fear, a scream coming from deep down. 

_voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy a morir voy-_

God, he was choking.

Choking on whatever that psycho was feeding him, choking on her hand, choking on his own vomit that was tickling the back of his throat.

He couldn’t breathe, struggled to inhale, forgetting about his nose, forgetting that he needed air to live.

The alien didn’t stop, not caring of the fact that not one bit of that ‘bread’ had been swallowed since the torture had started, not aware that her victim was going to die before he could do anything.

She kept going, forcing more and more of that food down his throat- he actually started swallowing after a while, too tired to fight it- as almost everything came out later on in liquid form, tickling down his chin.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but only that he probably ate too much of that horrid bread, chest feeling heavy and stomach sending rumbles of pain, making his head spin faster.

He wanted Keith, he wanted him to rescue him, kiss him, hold him tight.

The alien smiled, genuinely sympathizing with the expression of agony on the Cubans pale face. She started caressing his face again, her gaze soft and almost motherly, “Everything will be alright, My Lord” she reassured again. That said, she left _to get more…_ Lance thought rightfully.

Alone with his thoughts, Lance frowned, delusional. God, her smile reminded him of his mamá’s, 

_“I don’t want to eat manioc... I hate it, I hate it!”_

_“Lancito, do it for mamá… Just one bite,” she smiled, spoon an inch from his pouting mouth, “I know you don’t like its taste, but I promise you, mi amor, everything will be alright… Just one bite...”._

Lance kept crying, whimpers escaping his now bruised lips, head pounding rapidly.

When Keith and the rest of the team found him several vargas later, the Cuban was passed out, bent forward but still tied to the chair, an empty sack next to him, nobody in sight.

“Lance? Lance! Wake up, Lance, wake up now!” 

“Keith,” Shiro spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder, “just untie him and hurry, we don’t have much time” he informed.

Fuck, how could he let something like this happen? There were no records on these Heloxians, and that was almost impossible if not for the fact that a planet had never been explored. Or maybe it had, but only a few had managed to spread the information on it. False, furthermore.

The boiling ponds of salt-water, scorching the skin of whoever went near them, were the only ‘oceans’ on that forsaken planet, its plants poisonous even if tasty. Its people were brutal, worshipping a goddess of violence, enjoying torturing and hearing the blood-curdling screams of the unfortunate souls who accidentally landed on Hesox.

“I got him, Shiro. Lead the way” Keith said, snapping Shiro out of his trance and cradling the unconscious boy in his arms, taking his scent in. It had been too close, again. It kept happening, and Keith was starting to get sick of it.

The boy he loved risked his life everyday, just like the rest of them, yet fate seemed to play favourites, making him go through rougher patches, putting his life on the edge of the razor at any given occasion.

Keith couldn’t bear this anymore. Losing someone- losing Lance- again, no, he couldn’t do that.

-

Lance came out of the pod a whole quintant later, his skin and briefs still drenched in vomit- they didn’t have the time to put a cryosuit on him when he had arrived, intestines churning loudly, skin asheen, breath labored and shaky- and stumbled in Keith’s arms.

“I got you, I got you...”.

They sank to the floor, Keith holding onto Lance for dear life, his purple eyes shiny with tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Lance, I’m so sorry” he whispered in the Cuban’s hair, a hand entangled in it as well as his pointy chin rested on the Red Paladin’s shoulder, “you’re okay now, you’re okay… I got you”

“K-Keith..?” Lance croaked out, throat still sore. He sniffled, a hand flying up to hide his face; he was so ashamed.

So ashamed for having trusted Mlahu, so ashamed for having given up, so ashamed for thinking of his mamá as if he was never going to see her again.

-

He didn't show up for dinner, nor for breakfast and lunch. He avoided the kitchens, the dining room, and everything that could make him think of food.

Keith tried, oh he tried so hard to make him eat something, _just one little bite, I beg you!,_ but Lance couldn't do it.

Coran had found scarring in his throat and at the corner of his lips, giving that as an explanation, not wanting to admit that their Lance was momentarily gone.

It would take time to heal, the Altean has said, and not only speaking about the physical wounds.

A few days later, Allura agreed to start an IV nutrition program, and Lance agreed surprisingly: he was willing to do anything that could lead him away from having to swallow food.

He grew distant, thinner, flinching at the smallest contact. Him and Keith started sleeping on separate beds again, yet the Japanese boy would immediately rush to his boyfriend's bedside when he was having nightmares, screaming and worsening the injury in the process.

Keith cried himself to sleep after every episode. Lance did the same.

They had each other, but Lance dreaded touch. Yet, a relationship could keep blooming despite that, and Lance dearly hoped so.

He would try to get better. He had to. He wanted to. For Keith.

And for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why can't I just write the actual prompt without adding a whole story behind it? Ugh! I'm sorry if this isn't as good as you'd hoped, I had four migraine-induced nausea sessions (?) today and I'm still recovering from the dizziness. Also I worked for 8h today and it's 11.50pm LOL talk about last minute hehe...  
> -  
> Important note: "rayuela" is the game known as hopscotch in English: fun fact, in Italian we call it "mondo" (world) or "campana" (bell).


	5. day five: drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: near-death experience, klance

“I- I don’t think this is a good idea, Lance-”

“Relax, Keith, I know what I’m doing!”

“Do you?” the Red Paladin asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

The Cuban groaned, “Shut up, idiot”.

The two stared at each other intensely, bursting out in laughter shortly after. God, it had been so long since they had some free time to spend together, not having to worry about the fate of the cosmos for one single day. Shiro had declared it a “break-day”, during which all of the Paladins and the Alteans had to do something that they liked; the leader was no fool, he knew that having some time off would do good to them all, increase their focus and interest further than any other training.

Keith and Lance had agreed to go have some fun instead of staying in the Castle, unlike the others. The Cuban teen had proposed to go somewhere tropical, but the other one had no intention of going back home sweaty and sunburnt, his porcelain skin too delicate to be left under the sun for a whole day.

Still, Lance wanted to move and play like he would have done on a beach, so he opted for ice skating. Keith agreed, even if he truly had no idea of how to even stand on those thin blades.

They had put on the warmest clothes they could find, buying two pairs of ice-skates at the nearest space mall, the Castle horbitating near it, and immediately took off on their own for the closest, iciest planet they could find.

Blue graciously landed near a lake, as the two boys admired it excitedly.

The ice was thick, the Lion confirmed, and safe to walk on.

Lance didn’t waste time and immediately put the skates on, waiting for his boyfriend to follow him. Shakingly, Keith stood on the edge of the frozen path, grabbing Lance’s arm for support.

“I- I don’t know how to do this-”

“Relax, it’s easy. Plus, Lancey-Lance’s here to teach you!” he exclaimed, spinning around to show off his abilities, a wide grin on his face, nose red and snotty, “come on, grab my hand” he said, placing himself in front of Keith.

“Slowly, slowly-!” the Japanese muttered to himself, slowly grabbing Lance’s gloved hand, “fuck, I can’t, it’s too slippery-”

“Come on, Mullet, kids do it without complaining!”

“But I was born and raised in the middle of the desert-”

“And I was born and raised in Cuba, it’s not like it snows regularly there, you know?” he asked, sarcastic, “trust me, I won’t let you fall, don’t be scared” 

Keith looked away, flushing, “I am not scared!”

Lance huffed out a laugh, winking garishly on purpose, “Right, right…”

“I’m serious!!” 

Lance laughed again, and Keith followed soon, breathing him and trying to stand straight, legs shaking as he held onto his boyfriend. 

“Now, you have to drag one step in front of the other,” Lance explained while doing it, skating backwards as his eyes were locked onto Keith’s, “bend your knees slightly and try to fall face forward with your hands in front of you-”

“Don’t let me fall!!”

“Gee, relax, I won’t! I was just saying… Seriously, we fight an intergalactic war and you’re scared to fall for, what, 5’3 feet?”

“I’m 5’5, asshole!”

“Right, because that changes it-”

“Just keep me upright, would you!?” Keith asked, exasperated. He was having fun, and Lance was right to say that his fear was absurde, but fears don’t always have to be rational, and he knew better than anybody else.

After struggling a bit, Keith actually managed to skate for a few meters, shaking and staggering but never falling down, Lance’s hand still in his, holding him gently. The Cuban smiled widely, genuinely amazed, “You’re doing it, mi amor, look at you!”

“Y-yes, yes! Oh God, I’m actually doing it!”.

Purple eyes rose to meet two lapis lazuli gems, their owner smiling tenderly. He leaned forward- his boyfriend bending down slightly- placing his cold lips on Lance’s, melting in a gentle kiss. Keith’s gloved hands grabbed the boy’s hips and buttcheeks, squeezing them lightly as Lance smirked, tongues still entangled. The Blue Paladin’s hands fought to reach the mullet hidden under the red knit hat, gently caressing it, never breaking the kiss.

They eventually pulled apart a few doboshes later, panting as warm clouds escaped their wet lips.

“We needed this break, huh?”

“Yeah… And...” Keith blushed, “maybe we should get back to the Castle and continue there..?”

_ Oh _ .

“I agree, let’s go!” the Cuban chirped out, his own cheeks tinged in red.

As soon as they reached the shore of the lake, Keith gasped, Lance’s head whipping around so fast to hurt his neck muscles, “What is it!?”.

The boy raised his finger, pointing at the opposite end of the lake where they had been previously, “You dropped my hat!”

Lance sighed, a hand on his chest as he breathed out, “Shit, don’t scare me like that-” he muttered, going backwards toward Keith, “and, hah, I dropped your hat? If your mullet wasn’t so thick... Like, you basically booted the hat out”

“It would’ve stayed on my head if you hadn’t started playing with my hair...” the Red Paladin pouted, crossing his arms, “Go get it, my ears are getting cold and this whole holdup’s kinda ruining the moment-”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go...” Lance sighed, honestly hoping to be back at the Castle as soon as possible; he skated toward the other side of the lake, crossing its centre to shorten the trip. He was about seventy yards away from his boyfriend when he crouched to get the knit hat, dusting the frost off.

He turned around, waving the knit hat up in the air, “Hey babe, got your hat back!” he screamed, and Keith gave him thumbs up and stuck out his tongue in mockery from where he was sitting, tying his shoes back on.

What happened next was so quick that none of them realized what was actually going on: one second, Lance was graciously skating back to Keith, and an instant later his whole body was gone, swallowed by the lake.

Silence followed, air unmoving as Keith’s mouth gaped, horrified.

“...Lance?” he called, expecting his boyfriend to crawl out of the water any time now.

Horrible seconds passed, and nothing of the sorts happened.

“LANCE!!” 

Keith immediately started running, not caring about the fact that he wasn’t even wearing the skates, not caring of the fact that he could slip and fall, not caring of anything.

He just ran, frantic.

The boy slipped and staggered, falling hard on his knees, but didn’t stop going toward where Lance had fallen, crawling, now-bare hands numb against the freezing ice, eyes watery. 

“Lance, Lance! I’m coming, hang on! Lance!!”

-

Somewhere below the lake’s surface, Lance pried his eyes open.

_ What’s goin’ on..? _

He remembered skating to go back to Keith, and then… What had happened? Had he fallen?

His ocean eyes blinked sheepishly, water making the motion painful as his eyeballs burned, and he noticed tiny bubbles flying up in the air. 

_ Wait, what? _

What were bubbles of air doing up in the sky? And why was everything around him so… Dark?

A sheepish hand motioned toward what he hoped was the general direction where he’d come from, his movements slow, sending spikes of agony through his body. 

God, he felt so cold…

The clear sky above him grew distant, foggier.

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, his salty cries merging with the fresh-water swallowing him down. 

Lance quickly put the pieces together. 

He was… No.

Not him, not like this.

The Pilot whose Lion guarded the seas, the boy born and raised near the ocean, a swimming prodigy since a young age.

And now he was drowning, and he couldn’t move.

The shock of the impact with such cold water was too much for his body to bear, for anyone’s, to be fair.

Lance felt sick. Freezing. Scared. He didn’t want to die at the bottom of a goddamn abandoned lake, he didn’t want to have Keith go back alone, he didn’t want his mamá to have nobody to hug once the team would go back on Earth.

In a spiral of panic, Lance opened his mouth- to scream, to cry, to call for help; he ended up swallowing gallons of icy water, his lungs burning and squeezing, his throat aching.

He wondered if the hand that grabbed his hair was just a dream, and let his eyes slide close.

-

Keith yanked Lance out of the lake by his hair, fingers painfully digging into the Cuban’s frozen scalp.

“Lance! Lance, fuck, baby, come on,” he called while getting the rest of the body out too, letting it flop on top of him, their faces both facing the sky.

The Red Paladin didn’t waste a tic and immediately pulled himself to his knees, Lance still flopped on his back; he called his name, shook him. 

He was panicking.

He didn’t know what to do.

_ Not Lance. Not like this. Please, God, not Lance!! _

Keith’s head sank on Lance’s torso, feeling for a beat. 

It didn’t come.

_ No no no no no no no no no no no- _

The boy’s brain went into autopilot at the dawning realisation: Lance was dead. He was dead. He was never going to live again and it was his fault, his fault for sending him to retrieve that stupid hat, his fault for not accepting to go chill on a beach-

A rasped, barely audible breath brought him out of his panic-induced haze.

“Lance!? Lance!!” he called, but the boy below him remained unresponsive.

Keith immediately began compressions because that’s the only thing he remembered now, all those first-aid classes at the Garrison and drills with Voltron momentarily forgotten.

Thirty chest compressions, rhythm steady, palms going deep. Unsuccessfully.

He immediately grabbed Lance’s chin, lifting it up not too carefully, and kept two fingers under it, the other hand flying to Lance’s nose to pinch it close.

Keith breathed in, and then out into Lance’s lips, blue and freezing, making hot air rush into the boy’s still lungs.

Nothing.

So Keith repeated that.

Over and over and over.

He didn’t know how long he’d been going, he didn’t care, he was  _ not  _ going to give up.

Lance’s unmoving body started to turn colder, if that was even possible giving that he was soaked in icy water from head to toe. His fingertips were blue, skin asheen and almost as pale as Keith’s, lips definitely gray.

But Keith kept going.

He was crying, his body was getting tired, his mind going number as instants went by, but he didn’t stop.

_ Please, bring him back to me, please, please, I beg you, take me, take my life instead, but give Lance back. Give him back, please, give him back!  _ he chanted in his head, still compressing down Lance’s torso.

He could faintly hear the ribs starting to crack, and the sight of Lance’s body moving only because he was doing CPR on him was sickening. He’d never seen his boyfriend so still, so pale, so  _ dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead- stop it!! _

He was about to give Lance mouth to mouth again when the Cuban’s eyes shot open, pupils pinpoint and still. He gasped, flopping onto his side to throw up all the water he’d swallowed.

And that was a lot.

Keith massaged his back as his boyfriend expelled more freezing liquid, spitting and groaning, gagging and vomiting the contents of his stomach as well, the strain too painful for him.

His ribs hurt, his head spun, and he was so,  _ so cold. _

“-ce? Lance? Can you… me?” a panicked voice above him asked, words like bullets penetrating his ringing ears, every sound muffled and distant like he’d been underwater.

_ Oh, wait… _

Keith all but dragged him toward the Lion- this time choosing to go around the lake on the shore, not crossing its middle- and shoved him on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeated as Lance shivered violently, “I- I have to get you out of these damp clothes, Lance. I’m sorry, you’ll be okay, just- just stay with me!” he cried, actual tears still streaming down Keith’s pale face.

The Japanese rapidly removed everything from Lance, leaving him completely naked on the Lion’s floor as he ran away, coming back an instant later with emergency blankets and towels stored in the Lion’s bathroom.

Keith dried every inch of Lance’s body, not sparing his private parts, and immediately after that, he wrapped him up in a cocoon of weighted blankets; he removed his own shoes and tossed them away, putting his own socks- a bit smelly, but dry and warm- on Lance’s long feet, gently massaging his toes.

The Red Paladin blessed those lifts he did before and after training as he managed to pick his boyfriend up and put him on the bed, putting its blanket on him as well, using the towel again to dry Lance’s hair further.

The Cuban’s eyes rolled, foggy and dazed, his body still trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

Keith yelled for Blue to increase the temperature while grabbing the emergency supplies, getting the oxygen tank and placing the mask on Lance’s still-too-pale face.

The boy’s eyes locked onto Keith’s, and he smiled faintly, “‘m sorry I ruined our free day...” he whispered, teeth clattering loudly- which was good, because shaking meant being alive, and that to Keith was more than enough- “sh’ve been mo’ careful...”

“No, Lance, hey,” Keith called, stroking his hair back, “I’m the one who’s sorry… If I hadn’t sent you to get my stupid hat back- no- if I had agreed to go to the beach instead… I’m so sorry...” 

A pause.

Lance’s eyes fluttered again, “You o-okay..?”

“...Me?” Keith’s eyes widened in bewilderment, “are you seriously asking  _ me  _ if I’m okay?” he smiled, crying again and attempting to dry his tears with the sleeve, “y-you’re the one who almost-”

“Shh, ‘s okay… Dun cry...” the Cuban shushed, raising a trembling hand to meet Keith’s warm cheek, thumb rubbing it soothingly, “dun worry, ‘m okay now…” he smiled tenderly, his own eyes shining with tears too.

Lance used up his last bit of strength to ask Blue if she could get them back on her own, her gentle purr echoing in his head. The boy sighed in relief, the shock of the recent events- mixed with the pain in his chest and the dizziness- tiring him beyond possible; he finally fell into a light slumber, snoring softly as Keith laid next to him, listening to his boyfriend breathing in and out, his chest rising, his skin almost tan again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so close to turning this into a death-fic but then I didn't because I love you guys and I also love my children: I can't legally make anything *too* bad happen to them. However, this doesn't mean that I can't hurt them a bit... ;)  
> Also PLEASE learn how to properly give CPR, I'm not kidding, it's super important. There's plenty of guides and videos online on how to do it, and it's one of the techniques that saves more people in first-aid assistance.


	6. day six: tooth knocked out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abusive Kuron, violence, blood, missing tooth, klance.

The Galra were restless, making sure that wherever the Castle landed- even for a few vargas- there were patrols ready to fire.

Allura, probably the most tired among the space heroes, was exhausted beyond possible, her body giving in to the effort of constantly flying the ship.

Each of the paladin was required to spend at least half a day training, before and after patrolling a few miles surrounding the Castle, just to be safe; Coran as well never stopped moving, always upgrading the systems, checking for problems to solve and for ways to fasten the healing procedures and defense controls.

Pidge was working nonstop on their cloaking device, sometimes falling asleep while sitting upright, jerking awake with Hunk's tired calls as he worked on the thrusters, his movements slow and imprecise because of the exhaustion. Keith had come back from the Blade of Marmora to spend time with his friends and boyfriend, but since they weren't exactly in the position to allow themselves to have 'fun', he had beaten any possible training level, starting to create new exercises on his own, and always making sure that nothing was hiding in the shadow, pacing through the corridors back and forth. Still, they were all worried for a very precise reason: although Lance thought they didn't notice- or care, or both?- Shiro had indubitably started to treat him poorly, scolding him unnecessarily and forcing the boy to work more than the others did.

They had all tried to intervene, but after a quick apology- that seemed sincere, to be fair- Shiro would go back to his despicable attitude toward Lance. Keith and Hunk were especially upset about this whole ordeal, but Lance didn't seem to mind. Shiro was just stressed, and he had every right to be mad at Lance. Or at least, that's what the Cuban would say to the others and to himself.

The new Red Paladin would just withstand the yellings- because Shiro had become verbally abusive in the past days, and that was undeniable- and admitted his 'guilt', telling Shiro that he would do better. Every single time, Lance would just apologise for his misconduct or whatever he'd done to upset the leader and leave to train more intensely, willing to make up for his mistakes.

Shiro, however, seemed to be calming down, and had started to ease the invisible grip around Lance's neck, smiling more and becoming once again enjoyable to be around.

The boy didn't question his luck, but kept acting square and obedient anyway, not wanting Shiro to go back to what he'd been like in that period.

-

Lance woke up, washed and got dressed quickly and silently as Keith still snored softly on their bed. The Cuban opted for skipping breakfast like he'd done recently- no time to waste on that, he would eat something for lunch later, maybe...- and immediately ran to the training deck, knowing that it was empty in the early morning. 

The automatic doors slid open as he adjusted his chestpad, grabbing the beyard.

"Hey, Lance!"

_Oh..._

The Cuban swallowed and waved, "H-hey Shiro! What are you, huh, doing here?"

The man raised a thick eyebrow, confused by the question "What do you mean..?"

"Nothing, nothing!! It's just... Unusually early for you to be training here, that's it..." Lance explained, scratching his head nervously.

The man seemed to understand, "Ah, that's right. I was just... Thinking. Instead of laying in bed, I thought about coming here and clearing my head... Sorry, it's your time to use the room, right?"

"Oh no no- stay, please! I- I mean, if you want to... Don't mind me, I'll just come later!" he suggested, already turning his heels. 

No. Nope. He was not going to stay there with Shiro, he was not going to bother him with his nuisance, he was not-

"Lance, wait! Maybe..." and Lance turned around at the man's soft tone, "maybe we can spar together? Like old times!"

"...Are you sure about that? I'm not on your level, I'm totally lame compared to you-" alarms blared in his head because _no, no thanks, no, hah, no!_

"Hey, it's fine! Really, you wouldn't bother me at all. Listen, I, huh..." Shiro stopped, lowering his gaze and sighing, "I know I haven't been the best leader, no, the best friend to rely on lately... I've been an asshole, really, especially with you. And I'm so sorry for that!" 

Lance was paralyzed in shock, but let him talk.

"I'm not trying to say that it's not entirely my fault because it totally is, but... I feel like... Like I'm not myself..? I can't really-"

A warm hand on his shoulder interrupted his rant, and Shiro raised his pitch black eyes to meet Lance's ocean ones, "Shiro, man, it's okay. I... I understand. I forgive you, don't worry about anything, I was never mad. Just... Worried. And if you want to talk I'm right here. Even if you don't want to do that," he smiled tenderly, sincerely touched by the leader's words, which seemed to be authentic and heartfelt, "I'm always here for my friends. And if sparring is what you want to do now then let's get started! I can't guarantee you anything, but I'll do my best, I promise" he chirped out, stepping away and throwing the beyard on the other side of the room.

"Hand-to-hand?"

"Yeah, that's fine by me!"

Shiro nodded, "Okay, but remember: no hits in the crotch nor in the face, I'm serious about this," he specified, "and no weapons".

Lance ran a hand through his hair before giving the man a thumb up.

"And Lance, if you need to stop-"

"Or if _you_ do"

The man huffed out a soft laugh, "Right, so if any of us needs to stop, we just have to say so, okay?"

"Oki-doki. Now come at me, Shiro!".

And so Shiro did.

-

The first few doboshes of combat had almost been fun to them both, honestly; Shiro wasn't going easy on Lance, admittedly, but he wasn't hurting him seriously either, and the Cuban was glad to be finally treated as a worthy opponent.

"Is this the best you can do, huh?" he teased, jumping where he stood, "I expected a bit more from you, oh Fearless Leader!" Lance apostrophed, smirking.

The man shook his head, "My, you are a little brat when you want..." he answered, giving him a middle finger as the Cuban gasped exaggeratedly, back of the hand on his forehead, eyes fluttering close.

The two erupted in laughter, and decided to call it even.

"Thanks, Lance," Shiro called as the boy removed the chestpad, spraying water from the pouch he held in his hands all over his head to cool down.

"For what!?"

"For... For this. You're a great friend, you know?"

The boy blushed, "Hey... Anytime, man" he replied, turning around again, eyes almost tearing up for the utter sense of joy that welled up in his chest.

The tears that started streaming down his face an instant later, however, were not joyful ones.

He didn't know what happened, he didn't even have time to ask himself that as a possent metal hand grabbed his neck from behind, the strength of the grip painful and mind-numbing.

"Sh'ro..?" Lance called in a choked voice- and not only because he was actually being strangled- as his hands instinctively flew to his neck, trying to pry the prosthetic fingers open, "st-stop...".

And Shiro did loosen his grip, only to swiftly lower the hand, grab the collar of Lance's undersuit and throw him on the other side of the room, the Cuban's body skidding like a pebble thrown over the surface of a pond.

His head spun as he propped himself up on his elbows and knees, whole body wrecked by a shiver of terror and agony; Lance coughed, trying to get the sensation of something constricting around his neck away, unsuccessfully. Crystal-blue eyes rose to meet Shiro's but no, that wasn't right. 

His breath stopped again.

That _wasn't_ Shiro.

The Japanese man's eyes were glowing in a dull yellow tinge.

"Shiro, snap- snap out of it..!" Lance pleaded as he crawled back, cursing under his breath when his aching back came into contact with the wall, "p-please, what's goin' on? Shiro!?"

The man kept walking toward him, gaze deadly, a disgusting smirk on his face.

His fists were tight, arms straight along his hips, back straight. He kept approaching Lance, silent.

"Shiro, pl'se, I'm sorry!" the boy cried, tears and snot dirtying his suit. God, he felt so pathetic. 

Was he really pleading for his life to be spared? Was he really doing that with a friend? 

His _friend_.

His _leader_.

His _hero_.

"I- I don't- wha-what did I do? Forg-forgive me, I beg you-!" he yelled, literally bowing down, sweaty forehead pressed against the cold floor of the training room. Lance felt dizzy, disoriented, and in extreme pain.

Physical from being tossed with such violence to crack some ribs, yes, and emotional too. Tears pooled on the floor below him, hands protecting his head from _whatever_ was going to come down.

He prayed. 

He knew he was being a hypocrite, praying when he didn't even believe in God, but now he had no time for his theological questions. He just prayed. To God, or to whatever was looking down on him. He prayed for someone to rush in and stop Shiro, or even for someone to shake his body and wake him up from that nightmare.

Shiro's- _but that's not him!_ \- footsteps were heavy and rhythmic; he wasn't rushing it, taking in the scent of fear and pain, enjoying the sight of a trembling, _pathetic_ figure crouching down just a few steps before him, as he shook and wailed like the _worthless child_ he was.

The shadow under Shiro's eyes darkened as he lowered himself and grabbed Lance's hair, pulling him upright, the boy's toes barely touching the floor.

They could hear every single hair when it snapped, Lance's mouth agape to plead for mercy and call for help. No sound came out of it, yet. Only choked gasps and tears dripping loudly in that silent massacre.

When Shiro let go, Lance awaited to fall on the floor, the sensation of ground under him being a blessing, a safe-line. But it never came.

The Black Paladin's flesh hand grabbed Lance's collar again- from the front, now- as the other curled up in a tight fist.

Lance shook violently, eyes shining with terror, "P-pl'se, don't..." he rasped out as saliva stained the corner of his lips, the boy's face now entirely stained in mucus.

The world seemed to skid to a halt for a never-ending instant.

Shiro was _toying_ with him.

_But that's not Shiro!_

The metal fist that connected hard with his lower jaw- a sickening _crack_ echoing in the room- snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blissfully blacked out.

Next thing he knew, someone was crouching down next to him, patting his shoulder insistently.

"-ce? Lance!? F-fuck! Help, help!" someone yelled.

The boy tried to put the pieces together, to ask that person what they were doing in his room.

But he wasn't in his room, he soon noticed through dazed eyes. This place was too bright, too noisy, too overwhelming.

Someone- _the same person as before, maybe?_ \- was apologising profusely, caressing his hair as their head was turned backwards, calling for someone else.

Lance tasted copper and wondered if the dishwasher was actually doing its job, because cutlery wasn't supposed to taste like that, it was ruining his breakfast.

He made a mental note to tell Coran about it, and passed out again.

When Keith rushed in the room, blade in his hand ready to face whatever menace they were under, he gasped, speechless.

His boyfriend was curled up, beat to a bloody pulp as crimson liquid stained his whole face, pale and clammy even from the other side of the room.

He rushed and skidded on the floor, not caring in the slightest when his knees protested.

"Lance!? Lance, what-" he turned to Shiro, purple eyes wide in shock and fear, "what happened to him..? Shiro, what happened to Lance!?".

The man only let out a groan as he clutched his head, confused.

What had he done?

He couldn't have- 

He wasn't-

No, he would never-

Keith decided to save the questions for later and looked back at Lance. Now that he was closer, he could see the angry red bruise spreading on his jaw, just above his neck; blood spilled from his mouth- _did he bite his lip? Or his cheek, maybe? Is he bleeding internally?_ \- and nose.

Keith grabbed the comm-link he always carried without hesitating further, and a dobosh later Coran and Allura rushed in.

The Princess, physically stronger than her advisor, forcefully dragged Shiro out of the room; the man was still in shock, wincing as he massaged his temples, crying his eyes out even if he didn't really know why.

Coran stayed and immediately assessed the situation.

"There doesn't seem to be any spinal damage," he stated after running the portable scan he'd brought with him, "so we can move him. Help me get him to the infirmary, please".

Keith nodded, mind racing.

-

When Lance began to stir a couple of doboshes later or so, the smell of antiseptic made him cringe, scrunching his nose up in disgust. That, however, was a mistake, as boiling pain erupted from his face, nose bleeding again.

"Lance!" Keith yelled, gently turning his head on the side, "oh God, you're awake... How are you feeling? What hurts?"

Coran came to the bedside immediately, propping Lance up in a sitting position and placing a bowl under his chin, "It's okay, your nose isn't broken... And the concussion is only mild, so you'll be fine soon, my boy" he reassured, ginger eyebrows arching up in worry.

Lance didn't reply.

"Lance? Baby, what is it? Can you talk?" _Braindamage. Cathatonic stupor. Shock. Amnesia-_

The Cuban boy groaned, catching the attention of the two; something didn't feel right, and he'd noticed it and soon as he had woken up in the infirmary.

The Red Paladin grabbed a tissue from the box placed near the bed and spat a bloody tooth out, tongue immediately running in the gap.

Keith's stomach flipped at that.

"I'm... Thine" Lance finally rasped out, wincing loudly as he brought a hand up to his jaw. Coran passed him an ice-pack and he pressed it against the bruise, sighing in relief at the numbing sensation progressively spreading across his face.

"Ow," the Altean commented, grabbing a tiny flashlight, "please, open up"

Lance shook his head.

That was way too embarrassing.

But Coran insisted and he eventually gave in, too much in pain to argue verbally or gesticulating.

His lips parted and Coran shone the light inside his mouth, humming, "It appears that your third molar is missing, lad..." he witnessed, "but do not worry, according to my calculations it will grow back before the end of the movement!" he chirped out, extracting the light as Lance shut his aching mouth.

"Coran... Humans can't grow new teeth after they lose their permanent ones..." Keith explained, baffled, "but you guys apparently can..?"

"Of course! What kind of primitive species did you take us for? N-no offence, obviously"

"Nhuh thaken" Lance muttered, ice-pack still on his jaw.

His whole head ached, brain feeling like someone had taken it and put it into a blender, pouring the purée back inside his skull and sewing it roughly with metal wire.

"This is a problem, then..."

"How much pain are you in?" asked Keith, concern evident on his face.

"You mehan mhy whh'l bodhy or..?"

"Just the tooth" 

Lance stopped an instant to think, before raising four slim fingers.

"...Out of ten?"

"Outh oth thhive!" he snapped to his boyfriend, muttering an apology immediately afterwards.

Keith apologised too, and retrieved a cotton ball damp with liquid painkiller; he helped Lance place it in the gap, trying to make him open his mouth in the smallest way possible to avoid causing any more pain.

That didn't work much, but Lance sincerely appreciated the thought and delicacy.

Coran thoroughly checked the boy's other injuries and declared that a trip to a pod was mandatory once he'd been cleared for the concussion, meaning that Lance would have to just stay in his pained state for the following quintant before he could fall into an induced and welcomed slumber that would have solved all of his problems.

Well... Almost all of them. 

His molar was still missing; it was in the back, at least, invisible when he smiled. Yet, the thought of going around with a missing tooth after all that money his parents had spent to get him braces in middle-school was guilt-inducing.

He briefly wondered if there were dentists in space.

"Lance," Keith spoke, sitting on the gurney, tone grave and eyes low, "what... What happened in there?"

And there it was... His other problem, a bit more significant than a missing tooth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this on the notepad of my phone so forgive me if it sucks a bit. Also, hah, the prompt is mentioned only toward the end of the chapter... * insert "stonks meme" but with text edited as "rrraiter" *


	7. day seven: influenza

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: none.

He came to slowly, aware of the dull pain weighting on his tired body. Lance's hair was damp in sweat and plastered to his clammy forehead, skin cold to the touch and pale.

The back of his throat hitched, and he tried to clear it with a grunt, failing miserably.

He wasn't feeling this bad when he'd gone to bed the night before. The boy vaguely remembered that his joints ached even though he hadn't trained particularly hard, and his head had actually spun a couple of times during dinner. But, apart from that, he was feeling fine when he had hit the sack. 

A shaky hand reached for the pillow, only to realise that it wasn't under his head anymore, now dropped on the floor. He reached for it, hissing at the pain, and with immense agony he managed to bring that up on the mattress again, face sinking in it to block the lights out.

Lance didn’t want anything more than curling up in his bed, weighted blankets covering his trembling body from head to toe, and staying there for the whole quintant, no, for the whole movement. He could feel the cold shivers running up and down his spine, but at the same time all he wanted was to dive into icy water, the heat to unbearable now.

God, he felt terrible.

Lance moaned, distraught; heavy eyelids blinked sheepishly as the alarm clock on the bedside table came into focus, bright blue digits indicating that he was, indubitabily, late for training.

As if on cue, alarms started blaring furiously, red light blinding, indicating an enemy threat.

_Perfect. Just... Fucking perfect._

Timing had never been on his side, admittedly.

The boy sighed, defeated: he knew better than being late when Voltron was going to be needed on the battlefield, _again._

How many times had he let his friends down already? He wasn't going to let it happen again.

Swaying, Lance got up from his bed and put the armor on, clumsy hands adjusting the pieces in the right position. He briefly wondered why it was so hard to put that _damn_ thing on today, and why the pieces weren’t sliding as easily as the other times- _oh._

The undersuit. He’d forgotten about putting it on.

Under his armor, he still had his pajamas on, fabric plastered to his sweaty body.

_Shit, shit…_

He was officially late when the alarms stopped, air still and silent.

Lance cursed again, a shaky hand raising to press against his face. God, he felt awful, worse than he felt when he’d woken up only a few doboshes prior.

Allura and Shiro were going to be so mad… Not to talk about Keith.

He opted for going nonetheless after putting the armor on properly, blaster in his tight grip in case the threat had managed to penetrate the Castle.

The walk to the deck was agonizing; the dark spots that danced across his fuzzy vision made putting one step in front of the other so hard, and his legs felt heavy as he dragged them slowly.

He didn’t know how long it had passed since he’d left his room, but only that, when he reached the deck, all the presents collectively turned toward him, glaring daggers.

Every single one of them was in their armor, yet they seemed calm overall, not certainly readying themselves for a battle. The Cuban wondered if he was the only one to always fuck up, and if one day someone else would have taken his place as the most useless of them all, because apparently, that’s what he was.

Useless.

His teammates were ready to fight, but why wasn’t he? Why did he always have to be the last one to show up? Always him.

Lance’s ocean eyes watered rapidly, even if he exactly didn’t know why, but thanked the helmet on his face- its visor down- that made his commotion invisible to the others.

“Where were you?” Keith asked- snapping Lance out of his trance- acid seeping through his words.

His face scrunched up in shame, “I’m so-”

“We are lucky that this was just a drill...” Allura commented in a resigned tone, arms crossed, “did you oversleep, Lance?”

“N-no, I-!”

“So you were awake and still managed to be late..? This is bad, kiddo” Shiro added, interrupting him, “We get that you are a bit distracted, which is normal for someone of your age, but… But the others were all on time”

“Yeah Lance,”- _ah, because Pidge too has to reproach me now-_ “I was up all night rebooting systems and I still managed to get here… I’m not saying this to brag, because you’re my friend and I know you know what I do, and I also get that you’re tired but, frankly, I don’t get how… What were you doing?”.

Lance didn’t reply, gaze low and fists tight. He felt pathetic.

They were right, they were all right about him.

He didn’t _deserve_ to feel tired, he wasn’t in the position of feeling like that.

If he hadn't had his helmet on, his friends would have certainly noticed the color quickly draining from Lance's face, actual drops of sweat dripping from his damp hair, throat tight.

The others stood silently as a low groan was torn from the young paladin's chest, his trembling hands low to press against his bent knees.

And that set the others on edge.

“Lance-?”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, interrupting Hunk as the Samoan approached him with a stretched out hand, “n-no ‘m so sorry, gimme a tic..!”- and God, was he crying now?- “I- I just dun feel well...” he whispered almost imperceptibly. His whole body was wrecked by a violent shiver and his knees buckled, head spinning and vision more and more blurred as seconds passed. The ringing in his ears was so deafening that all of the other sounds were muffled, unintelligible, and Lance wondered what the others were telling him, because he needed to listen, he didn’t want them to yell at him later because he _couldn’t_ hear them. 

The boy raised his puffed eyes to meet Shiro’s gaze- was he worried? He seemed worried.- and then he knew no more, not even feeling his body as it dropped down.

-

Shiro managed to grab Lance’s upper arm before the young paladin could hit the cold floor, and lowered him to the ground gently. The leader immediately picked Lance’s ankles and angled the boy’s legs up, putting him into shock position.

“Lance, kiddo?”

“What is the matter with him!?” Coran asked, running to his side.

Hunk kneeled beside his friend, hands hovering above the body with uncertainty.

“Did his pressure drop!? Lance? Lance!”.

The engineer removed the Cuban’s helmet, wincing at the boiling heat radiating from him, “Fuck,” they muttered, “he’s got a temperature, and a high one...”.

Shiro’s expression was absolutely grim, shame for not noticing how one of his soldiers, no, one of his friends was sick washing over him like a bucket of icy water.

"Keith,” the leader called, looking at his step-brother over his shoulder, “bring us water and a sugar packet, quick. Allura, get a thermometer, please. Pidge-”.

A groan coming from Lance’s semi-parted lips interrupted Shiro’s orders, and the present all froze, not daring to leave the room before making sure that their friend was okay.

“Lance? Kiddo, are you with us?”.

The boy cracked an eyelid open only to shut it tightly an instant later, hissing, “s bright”

“Sorry, sorry!” Pidge hurried, dimming the lights from their holo-wrist projector, “is that any better?”.

A hum.

Keith and Allura awkwardly stood behind, and simultaneously decided to get what Shiro had told them to, not sparing a word because really, what could they say? ‘Hey, we’re sorry we treated you like shit, Lance. Are you dying?’ but no, that didn’t seem very nice. And so they left silently.

“Lance, do you know what happened?” Coran asked, stroking the boy’s hair back, so damp in sweat as tiny pearls of it covered his forehead and neck too. The dark circles under his eyes were now evident against the pale, clammy skin, expression almost slack.

And Lance actually tried to answer that no, he didn’t remember a single thing, when a cough tore from his throat, the burning sensation in his lungs consuming him from the inside.

Shiro lowered the Cuban’s legs and crouched next to him, propping him into a sitting position as he patted his armored back to help with the ongoing coughing session.

“How long have you been sick?” the Altean insisted gently, eyebrows knitted in worry.

“...Dunno. Woke-” another raspy cough, “woke up like this...”.

After asking another couple of questions on his condition, the man reached the conclusion that Lance was suffering from some kind of sickness and, with Pidge and Hunk’s aid, they gathered that this illness- unknown to Alteans- was the flu.

“How did you even get it? We’re in space...” Shiro wondered, baffled, but shook his head defeatedly, a thin smile replacing the worried expression from before, “you’ll be okay, but you need to rest up”

“N- no, I h-” a cough, more violent that the previous ones, echoed in the room, muffled as Lance managed to bury his mouth in the crook of his elbow to protect the others. 

He was turning blue, Hunk noticed, and so the Samoan forced his friend’s head between his shaking knees, back arched to ease the breathing process a bit. It helped, as a minute later Lance’s cough subsided, and he gasped for oxygen like a fish out of water. 

Keith came back with the water, muttering an apology; apparently, he’d broken the first glass he had prepared because it slid out of his trembling fingers. Shiro exhaled in amusement at that, because sometimes he too would forget that his brother was actually very nervous around this kind of things. 

The Blue Paladin sipped the water slowly and made a face, “Tastes like… Phlegm… Dun wanna...”. 

God, he felt so pathetic and childish. He was making a scene in front of everybody else, and these people were defenders of the universe, right? And he was too. The Blue Paladin of Voltron, mighty warrior, protector of the innocents, slayer of oppressors… Reduced to tears for a _fucking_ cold.

The thermometer Allura had brought signaled the equivalent of 104.5°F, and Shiro decided that it was his clue to put Lance in bed.

Stripping him out of his armor was challenging, as Lance insisted that he could do that on his own just fine- he was _not_ going to make the others see him in briefs, so shaky and sick- when he was clearly seconds away from toppling over.

In the end, he let Hunk and Pidge help, as the others all waited outside, awkwardly looking around without meeting each other’s gaze. 

Once Lance was in bed, covered in blankets as he claimed that he was freezing to death, the infinite list of apologies began.

The usual same sentences, over and over and over. He couldn’t bear with that anymore, he was so sick of that. He was sick of everything: sick of his weakness, sick of the team, sick of space, sick of being sick, metaphorically and figuratively speaking.

Shiro sensed him being upset and made the others leave.

But really, who was he to stay? The leader had been the first one to mistreat Lance, who still curled up in bed, moaning and crying in his feverish haze, kicking the blankets away and retrieving them an instant later, coughing in his sleep too. 

The Black Paladin sighed, and waited. They were going to have a serious discussion later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. This is shitty, yes, but so is my mental health. I've gone through the second depressive episode of 2020, hurray, but it only lasted 5 days so it's good? Anyway, yeah, I'm starting on chapter eight right now, so wait a hour or so an you'll have that too, and it will be better than this one (I have the right inspiration). I may still fix this later on, but for now it is what it is. Sorry!!!!!!


	8. day eight: overdose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: college AU, drugs abuse, vomiting, major character death.

How did it come to this? 

Lance didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything anymore.

God, he felt to stupid for being so reckless. He wasn’t fifteen anymore, for fuck’s sake, he should know better than this.

It started less than three months ago, after he’d been told that the scholarship he had studied so hard for, that the nights spent working at that forsaken bar in the outskirts- drunkards constantly asking for his number, slapping his ass as he walked by, punching him for telling them that the bar was about to close- and those oddjobs he had accepted in order to save enough money… Useless. It had been all useless, wasted, thrown into the forgotten void of existence.

It was all gone.

The thousands he’d saved, eating instant noodles every night- when he actually ate anything at all- were now useless, filling his bank account but remaining untouched.

The scholarship? Gone, given to someone else.

His straight As? Maybe those were enough for him to get a semi-decent job somewhere as an underpaid employee. Maybe.

But nobody wanted a twenty-one year-old immigrant boy to work for them.

It didn’t matter that his marks were the best of his whole course, it didn’t matter that he was a swimming prodigy, it didn’t matter because he didn’t get the scholarship and now his chances were gone.

Forever.

On the roll of despair, Lance had actually used a hundred dollars or so to buy alcohol, wanting to forget, wanting to end it all if someone up there would agree. 

His family didn’t want him and his roommate, Keith, was surely tired of his constant cries.

So Lance drank, rhum burning down his throat, making him feel something that wasn’t plain despair.

Drinking wasn’t bad enough, and he didn’t stop.

He had money to waste, right? So he might as well spend it all to feel happy again.

Lance tried marijuana, but that didn’t satisfy his needs and only made him horny, which was bad since nobody dared to approach him in his hazed state. Meth hurt too much, and he wasn’t looking forward to being sick again.

But the thing he couldn’t say no to was heroine. God, that sweet, sweet sensation of utter calm that took over him every time he inserted the needle in his bruised arm was aphrodisiac; Lance could feel every single one of his nerves relaxing, muscles slack, body floaty into a suspended dimension.

He started using it regularly.

The boy’s body thinned dramatically, vomiting sessions frequent after waking up from a drug-slumber. Keith noticed, but didn’t question it.

They were college students, after all, just kids oppressed by the system, with terrible jobs to pay for tuition, living off of instant food and warm water.

Still, he worried.

The Cuban’s arms were bruised, and his cheekbones had never been so evident on the too-pale face. Lance, of course, denied everything.

-

“We’ve lived together for almost two years, man. You can talk to me-”

“I- I don’t need to tell you anything. Back off, Keith, I’m fine!” Lance had once snapped.

Keith had paused, taken aback by his roommate’s sudden and unusual tone, “Is it the job at the bar? Did they- I don’t know- did they do anything to you? Is that why you’re so upset?”

“I am not upset!! I am fine, okay!? Fuck, just- just leave me the fuck alone!”

“Lance-”

“I said leave me alone!”.

They didn’t speak for days after that, but Keith hoovered close, not wanting to lose track of Lance.

The boy would lock himself up in his rooms for hours, putting a towel in front of the keyhole to make it impossible to peek through, and all Keith could do was study in his own room, occasionally pressing one ear against the thin wall, hoping to hear anything useful that could help him understand.

Except for some grunts, though, Lance remained quiet only to emerge back from the room after a few hours to drink some water and go back to bed.

He would keep the nausea for himself, waiting for Keith to leave to attend his classes before getting sick if he needed to. He thanked his days as a cleaner when it came to tidying his mess up, as fifteen minutes later, the bathroom would always be spotless, squeaky clean and smelling of lavender.

As for the grunts, Keith honestly just hoped that his roommate was jerking off to calm down and ease the tension. He did that too, and it worked, so he hoped that it was the same for Lance.

One day, however, Lance didn’t come out of the room after his nap.

-

The Japanese boy approached the door, knocking faintly on it. 

“Lance, hey huh, you’ve been in there for six hours now and it’s almost time to go to bed. I made you noodles! It’s huh chicken flavoured, your favourite… Want some?” he asked, hesitant, as he held a steaming bowl in his other hand.

Silence followed.

“Listen, I get that you’re stressed, but this needs to stop. We have to fucking talk about this, okay? Like adults. Or, if you despise me so much, you can always tell the counselor, you know? You- you don’t have to be ashamed of that, I go to her too sometimes, really! Come on, just let me help now...”.

He was starting to get worried, because not only Lance wasn’t answering him- and he was a light sleeper, so he couldn’t have just slept through his roommate’s calls- but because Keith could smell something so familiar yet distant.

He knew that stench from somewhere, but he couldn’t exactly pinpoint it.

It was something… Something acidic. Vinegar? No, but it was so similar to it…

And then, it clicked.

“Lance, I’m coming it!” Keith yelled, and without thinking further he kicked the door down, foot connecting against the closest part of it to the frame hard, the noise disruptive but muffled thanks to the moquette, bowl shattering as it was dropped.

The sight before his eyes halted him on his feet: Lance was laying in a pool of vomit- his own? _Oh God!_ \- heads slightly tilted sideways. His chest was rising shallowly, breaths short and hitched, barely audible. His right arm was stretched out, a needle still in its skin, blood trickling down the messy wound.

Keith snapped himself into action and immediately run to his friend’s side, shaking his shoulders violently, “LANCE!?”.

Nothing.

His face remained slack, and Keith forcefully pulled an eyelid up, wincing at the pinpoint pulis staring blankly at him. The boy’s skin was clammy and cold to the touch, and Keith swore that he could see splotches of actual blue on his pale skin.

“Fuck, fuck! Lance!?” he called, dialing 911 simultaneously.

An instant later, someone picked up, the characteristic voice of the emergency services not even having time to finish the first sentence, interrupted by Keith’s hysterical sobs.

“I need immediate help at Altea College, building three, second floor. M-my roommate’s overdosing, I think it’s heroine, and- God, he’s dying! Please, help!”

_“Sir, I need you to remain calm, an ambulance has been sent to your location-”_

“H-how long will it take!?”. He was hyperventilating at this point, but he didn’t care.

_“E.T.A. is four minutes and a half. I need you to remain calm and-”_

“Fuck that shit, my friend is dying and- and you want me to stay calm? God, I-”

_“What’s your name?”_

“M-my name?”

 _“Yes. What’s your name?”_ the lady on the other side of the phone asked, her accented voice so soothing yet stern.

“Keith. It’s Keith...”

_“And your friend’s?”_

“Lance. Why are you even-”

_“Nice to meet you, Keith, I’m Allura and I will help you through this. Keith, listen to me. Lance will be okay if you do what I tell you. Understood?”_

“I-”

_“Understood? Keith, do you understand me?”_

“Y-yes. Yes, what do I have to do?”

_“What position is Lance in? And is he breathing?”._

Keith’s hand flew to Lance’s wrist as he spoke, heartbeat erratic, but since he was breathing, he had one less thing to worry about. Or not. He told that to the first responder- Allura- and she immediately made him turn Lance on his side, because swallowing the vomit would result in choking, and since Lance’s reflexes were not optimal now, that could result in death.

Keith paled, but obeyed. 

_“Now, I need you to use Lance’s phone and contact the college, warn them to free the way for the EMTs and keep the students away. You got it?”_

And Keith did that too, since Lance’s phone was thankfully within reach.

Lance’s complexion was turning grey now, lips blue as some marks scattered across his face and bare arms. The boy was dripping sweat, armpits starting to emanate a nasty smell, mixing up with the nauseating stench of vomit; Keith tried his best to keep it down, but ended up throwing up his dinner in the corner of the room, Allura reassuring him, calm and professional over the phone.

A few minutes later, the EMTs rushed into the small apartment, and in a matter of instants, they wheeled Lance away, Keith following close.

The ride to the hospital was brutal, as the Japanese boy shivered and trembled, feeling useless and utterly helpless in front of the situation.

How did it come to this?

Why did he let Lance do that to himself?

-

Lance died in his sleep after the third seizure in less than ten hours. Keith was with him when it happened: one minute, the boy's body was still as it had been for a while, then it started convulsing. Ten minutes later, he was gone.

That’s the only thing that Keith could have hoped for after the doctors had told him that he’d gone in a coma, the possibility of him waking up thinner as minutes went by.

And Keith… He didn’t even know why he was crying. 

Anguish? Sadness? Anger? Relief?

All of those?

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything.

_How did it come to this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	9. day nine: starvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: starvation and side-effects, klance.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

_ He  _ wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But Lance was going to die, and he knew it too well: he could feel it in his bones, anxiety churning his guts as vargas went by, acidic bile corroding the stomach lining, having nothing else to consume.

He’d been captured-  _ how long ago was it?-  _ and separated from his team by the Galra patrols that had ambushed them. Lance’s mind raced, worrying for his friends and for his boyfriend.

It had happened so fast, so fast that they all didn’t realize what was going on.

The Blue Paladin still struggled to understand the dynamic of the attack, his head dizzy and light as if he were floating among the clouds.

They’d stripped him down to his briefs, cuffed him and thrown him into a humid jail, the only faint light coming from a tiny hole in the wall, too far up for him to peek through. At first, he thought that they were going to torture him for information, so he had braced himself for whatever was coming.

Honestly, he had learnt to bear with the pain, as his back still sent dull spikes of agony through his body every now and then, the scarring that had formed after the explosion was a grim reminder that death couldn’t take him so easily, although sometimes he truly wished it was the contrary.

This time was certainly one of those.

It wasn’t the pain per-sé to make him feel so helpless, no. It was what his imagination made him see that hurt him deeply, psychological damage even more agonizing than any external wound.

Since his eyes couldn’t set on anything, the pitch black before his eyes too dark to make him at least see the general outline of the cell, Lance was letting his mind do the work, or maybe it was his brain to have taken the lead.

He didn’t know.

But one’s imagination can be stronger than anything, isn’t that what people always said?

-

“Lance McClain, remove your filthy hands from my stew at once!” Keith yelled, apron comically tight on his body. The Japanese boy had a ladle in his hand as his arms rested crossed, expression stern.

“Excuse you!” Lance snapped back, sucking on his finger to taste Keith’s cooking, coughing “You owe me a kidney! Dude, how much salt did you put in this!?”

“A spoonful?”.

The Cuban’s hands flew to his hair, grabbing it dramatically, “Are you trying to poison me? No, no no no, throw this away, we have to do it again-”

“I thought you loved my cooking!”

“Correction,” Lance said, index finger pressing against Keith’s soft mouth, “I love you, and your cooking when it consists of putting pre-heated stuff into the microwave. However your recipes could use a little practice...”

Keith pouted, looking away, “It’s not my fault if I had to live with Shiro, my man can’t cook for shit...”. He smirked, “And by the way, you can only make garlic knots, is that even considered being a good cook, huh?”

“It works even if you change one letter-” air was knocked out of him as Keith’s pointy elbow connected with his ribs, the Japanese’s face red in embarrassment, “Lance! Are you twelve!?”

“Years old? No. Inches? Maybe… Why, wanna find out?”

“Not in the kitchen, though” Keith replied, biting his lower lip seductively, “how can you turn everything into something way too inappropriate?”

“No clue, but you seem to like it so I might as well keep going...”.

The smell of burnt stew didn’t stop them as they made love in the living room, they bodies entangled in a cocoon of harmony.

-

Lance snapped back to reality, jerking awake. Had he fallen asleep? He didn’t remember it…

God, it was just a dream, wasn’t it?

A beautiful dream. And Keith burnt and salty stew didn’t seem so disgusting anymore, after days-  _ days?-  _ of complete starvation.

Nobody, not even the guards bothered to pay him visit, allowing him to at least interact with someone.

For the first few vargas after his capture, he had sung and hummed, hoping to get someone’s attention, to annoy the guards beyond any possibility so that they would free him.

That didn’t work, obviously enough at this point.

His stomach churned loudly and a wave of nausea washed over him.

Lance’s head spun, and he decided to lay on the floor instead of sitting up, because he didn’t want to hurt himself further, still lucid enough to understand that he needed to preserve his condition.

Was he going to die there? He was never going to see the others.

Never going to taste Hunk’s delicious dishes as they chatted happily of better times, when all they had to worry about was getting good grades. 

Never going to organize pranks with Pidge, after consoling each other about their stranded condition.

Never going to try and convince Coran that nunvil was disgusting- but he would have done anything now to even wet his lips with something that wasn’t his own saliva- after talking about Altea with him.

Never going to hear Allura’s warm voice as she showed him books of ancient plants and creatures that lived on her planet a long, long time ago.

Never going to hear Shiro’s scolds, followed by the man fatherly ruffling his hair, telling him that everything would have been okay.

Never going to feel Keith’s warmth on his lips, each other’s slim fingers entangled delicately as they kissed, bodies close, the Japanese’s delicate scent filling his nostrils.

And his mamá… God, he was never going to see his mamá and siblings again. He was never going to taste her homemade garlic knots, never going to taste her wonderful arroz con pollo again, never going to see her warm eyes again as he ate a mouthful of whatever was on his plate, ocean orbs sparkling in utter joy.

Her hugs, her laugh, her cooking… He was never going to see those again.

Lance’s eyes teared up, and it only aggravated his dizziness, body suddenly more tired than ever. Heavy eyelids slid close, lost into nothingness.

-

“Mamá, I’m home!” Lance announced as he stepped in, removing his shoes and dropping the backpack on the floor.   
“Hi Lancito, how did it go?” his mom called, busy in the kitchen to make lunch for his kid who’d just come back from middle-school.

The boy washed his hands and went to his mom, hugging her from behind as she prepared her famous tamal en cazuela, skilled hands adding spices to the dish, “It went well, I got a 5 in maths!”

“Oh amor, you’re so smart! Good job...” she replied, so proud of his baby. The woman turned around, dirty hands sliding across the apron on her legs, and hugged her son.

Despite his young age, Lance was already taller than his mother; he let his head sink in her shoulder, smelling a whiff of spice as the woman’s long hair tickled his nose.

“Now, set the table, lunch is almost ready!” she chirped out, letting him go after a brief kiss on the forehead.

Still inebriated from the delicious scent, Lance nodded and obeyed, a wide smile on his tan face.

-

Dazed blue eyes pried open, only to shut close an instant later, dizziness too overwhelming to handle.

-

“Uhm, Hunk, dis is amazing!” Lance exclaimed, shoving another piece of cake in his mouth again, “how d’ you do dis?”

“First, don’t talk with your mouth full, and second, well… I may have robbed the Garrison’s kitchens, just maybe” the Samoan smirked, winking.

“Hunk!” the other replied, swallowing and patting his chest lightly to send the bite down, “so you don’t want to sneak out with me at night but you steal from the kitchens..? I’m offended!”

“Hey, I did it only to bake you a decent birthday cake!” Hunk replied, crossing his arms, “don’t make me feel bad about it”

“No, no, dude!” Lance cut in, putting a dirty hand on his roommate’s shoulder, “you are the best friend I could have ever hoped for! Aw, you shouldn’t have gone through all of this only for me...”

“I would do anything for you, man” the Samoan exclaimed, dragging Lance into a tight hug, “Happy seventeenth birthday, Lance”.

“Thank you, Hunk. You’re the best, I love you, man”

-

Rough hands grabbed his shoulders, shaking his light body, unresponsive.

They had found him.

After a whole week, they had finally found him.

And Lance… He didn’t look good.

Heavy, dark circles stood vividly against his pale face, cheeks sunk and wet in tears; when Shiro picked him up, he was shocked to witness that Lance had lost several pounds, ribs traceable distinctively.

Drool stained the corners of his mouth, as blood dripped on one side too, probably after he’d churned on it. 

They felt sick when Lance was propped on a gurney and hooked to an infinite amount of IVs by Coran, to reintegrate sugars and nutrients slowly but steadily.

The Cuban’s breath was short and shallow, chest rising imperceptibly, head lolling.

A few vargas later, they had the confirmation that Lance was, eventually, going to be okay.

But Keith wanted to throw up nonetheless. Those bastards had starved him. They had starved Lance, his boyfriend, the most jovial person in the whole galaxy.

It was their fault if the thin boy was barely breathing, oxygen cannulas inserted under his tiny nostrils, arms pierced by needles, machines beeping slowly.

It was their fault.

And they were going to pay for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> going to Milan in two hours or so (I know it sounds cool but I live so close so it's an ordinary thing) but I will try to post chapter 10 as well nonetheless!  
> Also, apparently grading system in Cuba goes from 0 to 5, so 5 is like an Italian 10 or an American A! The more you know...


	10. day ten: hypnotized by the whumper + dislocation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of brutality, blood and gore, injury, mind control, klance.

Druids. It always had to be those damn druids.

Lance had the absolute certainty that everybody, even the Galra generals, despided those creatures, their demonic power only used to commit cruelty, torture and abuse innocents.

A sheer demonstration of power, that’s what they did: they had supernatural abilities, they could morph reality, and instead of subjugating the opposers, they joined them, slaying whoever opposed their regime.

Because yes, that’s what it had become: a regime.

Haggar and her puppets had taken over the Empire, using dark magic to convince that they were the rightful leaders, those who would bring balance and victory to the Garla.

And team Voltron had witnessed it with their very eyes, shaking as the videotape rolled once again.

The images were neat, words understandable, cries of agony loud as they bleared through the control room’s speakers in the Castle, echoing in the presents’ heads.

Shiro actually had to sit down, gently guided to the closest chair by Coran who’d noticed immediately that the leader had lost several shades in his face, mouth pressed in a thin line as to keep himself for screaming, eyes glued to the screen.

Haggar’s image as she made a general- Shiro had recognized him, he was with him in the arena- hang himself in the council room, her fine eyes glowing yellow, a hand raised mid-air. The Galra’s body swayed by his neck, not even struggling as life left the victim.

If the scene hadn’t been so terrifying, so cruel,  _ so real,  _ Lance would have probably made a Star Wars joke, something to do with the force maybe, but this… This was not the right occasion.

The team realized it immediately: they were screwed.

Not aware of these abilities that every druid possessed, they had infiltrated the bases often: and now, knowing that it could have been them to face that horrible fate.

So close, they had been so close to that.

Each of them.

After the video began again for the tenth time, Allura ended the broadcast, fists tight on the board, head low.

She had been so careless, sending her teammates away like that, all those times… Telling them and herself that they would have been fine, that they’d done much more dangerous missions in the past… No. 

“...Allura-”

She raised a hand, and Coran immediately stopped talking, sighing. He didn’t like seeing his protegée blaming herself for something that they all should have seen coming; she may have been the leader, but she was still a child. Not considering that involuntary nap that had lasted ten-thousand years, she was just a twenty-five year old girl, with much to discover.

This counted for the others as well. God, they should have all been in school now, worrying about passing exams, talking about who they liked, getting tipsy at parties, ditching lectures to meet up and play games. Laugh, enjoy their time, and cry as well, but not for war, no. This was not okay.

They were kids, and they had seen death way too closely.

Coran shivered, a hand pinching his nose. There was no way he was going to let them go to these missions again with this new piece of information. Still… They were at war, and he knew that too well.

“We can’t just- stop doing what we do. We risk our lives every time, we can’t stop-”

“Keith,” the Altean man called, “I understand your point, but this is too much. We need precaution, you are not to go in there unprotected”

“So what? You’re gonna design tinfoil hats now-?”

“Please,” he spoke, voice soft and on the verge of tears, “you are all too young to be dealing with this… The universe can’t risk their saviours’ lives like that, and I won’t risk my friends for this. You will need to stop going to these missions until I can properly protect you. I… Please, I beg you”.

And Keith didn’t reply, because Coran tearing up was not a pretty sight: it was unsettling, wrong. A hand squeezed his shoulder as he peeked back to see Lance standing just behind him, eyes low, “Coran’s right, you know?”

“I’m-”

“But Keith’s right too. I don’t want to take sides, but… But we can’t stop fighting, and we can’t just wait either”

Pidge sighed loudly, adjusting their glasses, “I have to agree with them. We’re the universe’s only hope at the moment, and the Garla won’t take a break for us to find a solution against their new tricks”. Hunk nodded, fiddling with his hands.

Shiro still sat on the chair, elbows propped up on his shaking knees, hands in his hair. But despite that, he nodded in agreement, “Y-yes, we have to-”

“No,” Lance bit back unexpectedly, “you are not going to be a part of this, Shiro. Look at you, you are an instant away from hyperventilating and we’re barely discussing the matter”

“But Lance-”

“Please, man, just… Stay out of this. For your own good and for the sake of the mission. We can handle this, I promise”.

His words had no malice in them, but only apprehension; the boy’s ocean eyes shone with fear for his leader, because he’d seen him get hurt too many times, he saw that the druids had done to him, the scar on his face so vivid, the robotic arm a grim reminder of what he’d went through. He really needed to stay out of this.

And all Shiro could do was nod, as everyone’s eyes were set on him, worry evident in their features.

-

“Hey, Lance, wait!”

“Allura,” the boy gasped, stopping and turning around as the Princess ran toward him, reaching the boy in an instant, “what’s up?”

“I just wanted to thank you for how you handled the situation back there. I… I was not in my right mind to say what needed to be said, but I agreed with you on every point”

“It was nothing, really-”

“No, it definitely was something; it was a lot, trust me. You helped Shiro understand that he needs to take breaks sometimes and that it’s more than normal to need space after a traumatic experience. So… Thank you, Lance” she finished with a warm smile.

He smirked back, gaze soft as he adjusted his helmet, squeezing his head into it, “Take care of him while we’re gone, alright?”

“I surely will. And you take care of the team, please. Be their leader, guide and protect them as much as you can”

“I will, I promise”

-

The mission had gone smoothly until the druids decided that playtime was over.

When four paladins attacked them, weapons firing furiously, swords cutting through their shadows as they teleported, protectors of the universe swiftly dodging what resembled electric fireballs that the druids shot from their hands, the dark lords had gone easy on them, still not speaking a single word.

That’s what was scary about them: behind those elongated masks, the figures had no faces to be connected to by their enemies. Nobody knew what they looked like, nobody knew their voices, nobody knew if they were Galra or else, or even living beings at all. From what they knew, those druids could have been the henchmen of death.

When Haggar showed up, however, their tactic changed: passive attacks become more aggressive, their aim more precise, managing to injure Pidge in their right calf, sending the tiny body to the floor; Hunk immediately run to his friend’s side, firing the blaster at the culprit, missing the target as it disappeared into nothingness.

Lance cursed loudly and ordered to retreat because they were surrounded, and would be dead in a few doboshes if they stayed there like that, sitting ducks at the executors’ mercy.

They tried to flee, but the druids wouldn’t stop coming, forcing them to get on defensive, attacks impossible now.

“At last, the Paladins of Voltron came,” the witch smirked, “however, my heart breaks for I cannot see my beloved champion-”

“He is not yours, you fucking bitch!” Keith yelled, as Lance’s head grabbed his wrist on instinct for fear that he would attack the druid, “he is not yours, never was and never will be!” he hissed.

“We shall see about that… Still, I could always get a new one, do you not agree?”

“Let us go, you-”

Her expression remained impassable as she zapped Keith with God knows what, sending him convulsing on the floor: the veins on his partially uncovered neck popped out, blood rushing to his head as he shook, muscles tense.

Lance stared horrified, but didn’t move as he feared that Haggar would only increase the level of the attack. The convulsions would stop, and Keith would be okay. He had to be okay.

“What do you want from us?” he asked, hands raised defensively.

“Were you not listening?” she questioned, “I am looking for a new champion, as you stole mine from my grip. I will not forgive you for that, and I will get my Shiro back, but in the meantime I shall provide my people with something enjoyable to tear apart”.

And at that, Lance felt sick: not only that witch kept stating that Shiro was hers, but she admitted that they had tore him apart, dehumanized him,  _ broke  _ him. Lance wanted to throw up, but swallowed the bile down, expression still stoic.

_ ‘Be their leader, guide and protect them as much as you can’ _

He had promised Allura, he couldn’t fail.

“Listen, he will never be yours again, as my-”  _ my boyfriend  _ “my teammate said, and he never was in the first place. I have no intention of letting you get anyone of us, but perhaps we can reach an agreement-”

“I never took you for the diplomat, my dear Lance”

_ ‘My dear Lance’.  _ He was hers, she had chosen him. Oh God, she had chosen  _ him. _

“Well, I’m sorry you underestimated my abilities then...” he joked, looking down to his feet as he witnessed Keith trying to prop himself up, “still, my offer stands. We are not surrendering our Lions nor a team member, but if you stayed on one far corner of the universe without attacking innocents-”

“You… Yes, you shall be mine. My beloved Lance”.

The others stood in shock, Pidge momentarily forgetting about their oozing wound, Hunk snapped out of his anxiety, Keith suddenly fully aware of the situation.

“No, no, you’re not listening. I’m not-”

“My beloved Lance, come to me” she whispered, and the boy’s blood froze.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe; his mind was blank, a faint buzz in his ears being the only reminder that he existed, that he had a mind of his own, that he was Lance.

But he wasn’t.

He was Haggar’s champion. He was  _ hers. _

Keith was horrified as he saw Lance’s body drop on his knees, hands pulling at his own hair, a silent scream escaping his agape mouth.

“Lance, Lance! No, Lance, listen- mphh!” an invisible hand covered his mouth, shutting it close; as the Red Paladin turned around, he witnessed that he wasn’t the only one who’d been muted. Not only that, but Keith, Hunk and Pidge’s movements were now limited, they couldn’t step forward, couldn’t raise their hands.

_ No, no no no no, Lance, fight it. FIGHT IT! _

When Lance rose to his feet an instant later, Keith childishly hoped that his boyfriend had heard his mental plea, back to his right mind and ready to stop Haggar once and for all.

However, when he turned around to face his  _ enemies,  _ his expression muted Keith more than anything else; his usual bright eyes were dull, pupils staring into an unidentified void, body neutral and absent.

“Perhaps a demonstration would help your friends here understand that your stunning abilities are wasted with their silly games?” the witch asked rhetorically, and Lance nodded.

He stepped forward and firmly grabbed Keith’s hair, yanking his neck up, head held painfully high; his gloved fingers dug into the scalp, grip tightening as he stared at the helpless figure before him. He delivered the punch to the boy’s face without further ado, composed and quick, movements mechanical and precise.

All Keith could do in his muted state was whimper, and so he did, loudly.

God, his nose hurt. It was bleeding profusely, and he couldn’t even raise a hand to hold it and maybe set the broken cartilage, no. He had to withstand the pain, eyes pleading as he stared at the boy he loved so much.

_ Please, Lance. Please... _

Tears streamed down his face- Hunk and Pidge had started struggling and sniffling a few instants prior because they weren’t even involved in the brawl, all they could do was literally just watch and maybe pray.

“Come, my Lance. The druids will take care of these creatures later, but right now you are needed elsewhere” Haggar announced, already walking away as Lance followed her close.

-

Keith, Hunk and Pidge were thrown in a cold cell, cuffed and unarmed, not knowing what was going to happen to them or to Lance. At least they could speak again, but they didn’t dare to do so.

One wrong word and they could die.

One wrong word and Lance could die.

All they could do was wait for someone to rescue them. If they would even come, that is.

-

Rescue did come, a few vargas later. The loud roar of the Black Lion tore the sky outside the building that the team had infiltrated, Shiro slashing through the bots on the way to the cell.

“Shiro, what are you-”

“I couldn’t stand back and watch, I-” he stopped, eyes going wide, “...where’s Lance!? Keith, where is he!?”.

The man’s breath hitched as the reply didn’t come, Keith biting his lip in shame and fear, “they got him. Haggar, she...” a tear slipped down his pale face.

They were free of the cuffs in the blink of an eye, and Shiro ran off once he helped them. He needed to find Lance now.

He could already picture the boy’s beaten body, a limb missing as crimson blood oozed from the stump. He could see his eyes red from the tears and the pain, shadows behind them, clouding his mind as he fought for his life, or maybe as he tried to end it all soon.

Shiro wanted to vomit.

It was his fault.

He’d sent them out like that, he’d stayed back like a coward, letting his trauma have the best and-

_ “Shiro, where are you going!?”  _ Coran yelled through the comm-link in his ear,  _ “the exit is on the opposite side of the building. Did you get the others?” _

“Th-they got Lance, and I have to get him back. I have to save him, they-”.

Steps approaching him quickly from behind made him skid to a halt and turn around, eyes sharp and deadly, arm glowing brightly.

“Shiro,” Keith said, staying a few meters back as Pidge and Hunk did the same, “it’s us, deactivate your arm!”

And he did.

“What the fuck are you doing here!? I told you all to leave!”

“We are not letting you go in there alone,” Hunk screamed, anger mixing up with shock, “they already have Lance and we can’t let them take you too, Shiro!”

“Hunk’s right, you are not in the condition to just face Haggar alone! Let us help!”

“Pidge-”

“No, Shiro,” Keith interrupted, “they’re right! You are not fighting Haggar alone, we won’t allow that. Now enough with the chitty-chat, let’s get Lance back!”

-

The arena was empty if not for Lance who stood in the middle of it, expression anonymous and uninterested as his  _ enemies  _ entered the place.

Haggar appeared behind the paladins as the door slid close after they entered, and smirked.

“My beloved Shiro… You came”

And the man froze on the spot, terror washing over him: her voice, her words, that place… It was all too real, too sudden, too overwhelming.

But he couldn’t let that witch play tricks on him  _ again,  _ he couldn’t let Lance down like that.

The kid had believed in him, he’d called him ‘his hero’. 

Shiro had to save him.   
Pidge stepped between Haggar and the leader, their wound still bleeding but less significantly, “Stay away from him, you piece of shit!”. They were unarmed, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t fight.

Hunk stepped in too, shielding the man with his body while Keith’s attention went to Lance.

His boyfriend stood still, gaze penetrating but unfocused, lazy. That thing wasn’t Lance, but he was still in there.

Taking advantage of the other fight that had begun, Keith stepped close to the Blue Paladin, hands up in the air to show that he wasn’t carrying any weapon. He doubted that Lance would understand in his state, but it was worth the shot.

“Lance. It’s me, Keith. You remember me, right?”.

Nothing.

“We’ve been together for some time, and that’s pretty shitty of you to forget your partner like this, honestly…” he tried to joke, hoping to snap him back to reality, “come on, Lance, work with me. We need to go, okay? We need to leave this shithole and go back to the Castle, and cuddle all night long. But to do that, I need you to snap out of it..!”

Why wasn’t Lance moving? Why wasn’t he speaking? God, he wasn’t even blinking.

He just stood impassable as Keith approached slowly.

“Please, Lance. I’m begging you, fight it. That bitch is in your head and I know that it’s hard to do so, but you have to get her out of there. She’s fucking with your mind, but we are not enemies! I forgive you for punching me, okay? Just… Don’t make me hurt you too, please!”.

That didn’t put Lance into action either.

“I’m going to touch you now, alright? Nice and slow-” but before Keith’s hand could descend on his boyfriend’s shoulder, a firm hand grabbed his wrist, grip painfully tight around it.   
Lance stared at Keith as he tried to free himself, “L-Lance, let me go!”.

He didn’t.

Ocean eyes, empty and dull, stared at Keith’s pained face without moving, any spark gone.

“D-don’t make me d- agh! Don’t, Lance, pl-please...”.

There were tears in the Japanese’s purple eyes now, tears of pain and fear and betrayal.

He didn’t want to hurt Lance further, but for the greater good he knew he had to. Before the mind-controlled boy could do anything about it, he was flipped like a coin, Keith taking advantage of the grip to fasten the momentum and spin his body around; Lance now laid face-down in the dirt as Keith stood above him, hands holding Lance’s arm tight, angling it awkwardly.

And he swore that for a second, he could see pain in Lance’s eyes.

So agony could snap him out of his dazed state, meaning that inflicting it was the only way to get him back.

Keith hated this.

He hated Haggar, he hated the druids, he hated hurting the boy he loved.

But he had no choice, so he yanked the arm further, a sickening  _ pop  _ echoing in the arena, muffled by Lance’s agonized wails as he wiggled under the hold.

The other fight was over soon as Haggar teleported to Lance’s side, ordering him to get up and fight.

He didn’t, but kept screaming as Keith angled the arm more and more unnaturally, shoulder bones cracking and muscles tearing.

Shiro rushed toward her with his glowing arm, and sliced without thinking, because all he could see was red; he managed to chop off a clump of gray hair, and then the witch was gone in a cloud of darkness after hissing a threat of her coming back soon.

The focus was reverted back to Lance now, as he tried to pry himself free of Keith’s grip.

But he still wasn’t entirely Lance, the Red Paladin knew it, so he kept going.

When Lance’s body slumped unconscious, a thin purple fog raised from his body, the spell officially broken.

Keith didn’t let go, but eased the grip and lowered the arm, crouching down next to Lance; blue orbs fluttered open, dazed and in pain, but to Keith, that was the most beautiful sight ever.

Because Lance was  _ feeling  _ again.

“Lance..?” he spoke softly, gaze gentle and filled with worry.

The boy scrunched his face up, and inhaled sharply, “Keith… Wh’happened to your face?”.

His face? His face was fine, why was- oh.

The punch, yes, that. His nose was still bleeding slightly, the skin immediately under the eyes tumefied for the hit.

“It’s nothing, really, Are you okay..?”.

The others hoovered close, breath hitched.

“Yeah, ‘m fine… W’s goin’ on..? My head...” he winced, trying to raise his dominant hand- the left one- to press it against his face.

A scream of agony was tore from him, tears spilling from his eyes instantly.

Pidge approached Keith and whispered in his ear so that Lance wouldn’t listen, “Did you break the arm or dislocated the shoulder?”.

Keith exhaled shakily, “Just dislocated...”

“Then… Then we have to reset it before we leave, and we need to hurry too”

“Fuck… Fuck, okay, let me just...” Keith looked at Lance again, stroking his hair back soothingly, “Hey, baby, listen to me. We need to reset your shoulder before we go home, okay? It’s going to hurt, but… But we’re here. I’m here...”.

They didn’t really wait for a reply and Hunk propped Lance into a sitting position, supporting him from behind.

Shiro looked hesitant, “Do you..?”

“I… I never did it before, I’m unsure. Maybe Pidge..?” Keith replied, looking at Pidge who nodded, not needing to explain.

Keith held Lance’s uninjured hand in his own, murmuring soft words of reassurance to calm his boyfriend’s nerves and to distract him from the fact that Shiro pinned his legs down.

Pidge shifted next to him, muttering an apology as they grabbed the left arm, angling it before beginning the procedure.

“I’ll count to three, okay?”

A hum.

“Perfect. Breathe deep, okay?”

“Jus’.... Do it...”

“Alright, alright” they hurried, breathing in too, “One-”  _ crack. _

Hunk shrieked, horrified as color left Lance’s face and his eyes rolled back, slumping into the Samoan’s shoulder.

“Wh-what happened to two and three!?” Keith asked, patting Lance’s cheek gently.

“It’s better when you don’t see it coming, the muscles are less tense and fear is reduced-”

“Okay, okay just… Thank you, Pidge, you’re amazing” Keith breathed out, smiling with gratitude.

Now that the bone was reset into its socket, it was time to go and put Lance in a cryopod.

That would have helped with the physical wounds, but it wouldn’t have dealt with the most important factor: the damaged mind, scarred for eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BBBOI i enjoyed writing this a bit too much eheh.  
> Going to work on another fic now even if it's past 11pm ("the price of peace", a galtean princes klance au. Chapter 1/10 is out already, check it out pleeeeease!), wish me good luck.  
> Day eleven and twelve will be up within the next 24h, pinky-swear!


	11. day eleven: forced to watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: description of brutality (graphic), vomiting, psycholgical damage, klance.

It had started when he’d been captured on a solo mission- on which he didn’t want to go, to be fair- and promptly thrown into a pokey arena, not more than a thousand seats around it for the spectators to be in during the ‘show’. 

Because that’s how one of Lance’s captors had called it: a damn show.

The boy had been cuffed and tied to a pole; frankly, he had lost any hope in being rescued when they had stripped him out of the armor, thankfully leaving the thermic undersuit on him, and literally thrown his beyard and helmet into what looked like an open landfill side, miles and miles of crumpled scrap metal and other organic waste emanating a revolting stench that had actually made Lance gag and throw up some bile when he’d first arrived- or, well, been dragged near it to get rid of his belongings.

Blue had been taken too, but she’d managed to raise the particle barrier before anyone but her paladin could get in.

Still, Lance was indubitably screwed.

He struggled against the hold, but the people- presumably Fulexians, since he had landed on planet Fulx- were several inches taller than him and their grip was lethal as claws almost perforated the undersuit; though it prevented the skin from bleeding, it was still going to bruise nastily.

The captors had blindfolded him, dragged him all the way to the arena and tied him up like a rotisserie chicken- Lance actually chuckled when he thought of him being roasted on a stick.

He had prepared himself for death because, realistically, he had no chance: not only the metal wire was pining him tightly, but whatever they were going to send against him would have killed him with one blow, certainly. Still, he noticed that, weirdly enough, he wasn’t at the exact centre of the dusty arena, but closer to where the public watched from.

A Fulexian approached him and yelled something that he didn’t minimally get, and after delivering a six-finger slap to Lance’s face, she started fumbling in her pockets.

_Huh, what’s it gonna be..? A taser? A gun? Or maybe an injection? Please no, my body’s so bruised already… Oh, I hope it’s a pill, nice and quick, no pain-_

Instead, the alien extracted what Lance immediately recognized as a translator and turned it on, looking at him with an evil smirk. 

“Now you understand me”

“Mhmh, I do, yeah”

“Perfect. Do you know where you are?” she questioned, curiously enough.

His face scrunched up in confusion, “Planet Fulx? Or you want me to be more precise-”

“This is Fulx’s most advanced research center, and you shall partake in an experiment we’ve been conducting on different species. It’s quite rare to spot someone from such a remote and primitive planet like yours, Paladin, so I could not pass up this opportunity”

“Wait, wait. There’s a frickin’ dumpster that emanates toxic fumes right outside this place, and you’re telling me that this is an advanced lab? Please...” he scoffed, “if you want any info on Voltron, just torture me already, as I won’t speak a word. Let’s not waste any time” he finished, diverting his gaze.

The bravado could maybe fool strangers, but if his friends had been there with him, they would’ve seen that Lance was utterly scared now, terrified. Of course he didn’t want to die. Sometimes he did, actually.

But not like that.

“We could not care less about Voltron. All we want are results to our experiment, so we shall begin without further ado. Oh, my name is Rhuli; apologies for the rough encounter” she stated, actually hinting a tiny smile.

Still, this Fulexian didn’t look like a scientist or whatever: where was her white coat? And her glasses? And her clipboard? And her hair-bun?

_Okay, maybe I do watch too many movies…_

“What do you expect me to do, exactly? Fight?”

“Simply watch and be yourself, this is all we’re asking. Once the experiment is over, we will let you go back to your robot and you are to leave the planet undisturbed”

“...Seriously? Like, I just have to watch and then I’m... I’m free to leave?”.

Rhuli nodded.

Okay, he could take it. He was actively fighting a war and had seen death right in her gloomy face: he could take it.

His relief was short lived when rough hands forcefully pulled his eyelids up and pinched them with retainers, making it impossible to blink; involuntary tears weren’t enough to moisturize his eyes properly, and Rhuli seemed to acknowledge that as she poured what Lance hoped were eyedrops or something similar in his ocean orbs.

Contact lenses burt at the impact of the liquid, sliding away in the stream of tears, and Lance hissed in pain as his eyes burnt and reddened dramatically. That wasn’t a good start: how was he supposed to look if all he could see were blurry shapes as his head spun for the pain and the radical change in his vision? _Mierda._

Slowly, the shapes became more clear, tears still staining Lance’s flushed cheeks, anxiety and fear corroding his guts as a wave of nausea washed over him.

He suddenly noticed a small creature stepping into the arena, looking scared and so, so small. It resembled a humanoid bunny, only with significantly shorter ears, long turquoise fur and six paws, using two pairs to move as one hung awkwardly on its chest; the little alien it was probably half of Lance’s height, its three eyes pitch black and with an elongated red pupil in the centre of it. The boy shuddered at the sight: he’d wandered in space long enough to fall in love with a cute creature before actually seeing what it was capable of.

The answer came soon as a Fulexian dressed in a hazmat suit stepped in, machete held tight in gloved hands; Lance was startled as Rhuli set beside him, a clipboard- _ah! There it is…-_ in her hands. Though his peripheral vision was gone momentarily due to the strain his eyes were under, he could see her as she smiled tenderly.

“That’s Uthok, my lab partner. She will conduct the experiment step by step. Are you comfortable, Paladin?”

“Not in the slightest… God, my eyes burn...” he replied, as Rhuli seemed like a decent being and so maybe she would help.

“Does that impede your sight?”

“No? Not much, anyway. I can still… See, kinda. It hurts, though”

“Interesting,” she commented, scribbling something down rapidly and then raising a hand, as her lab partner nodded, “we are ready to begin”.

Lance had thought that he could take it. Well, he could not.

He saw the machete descend on the creature’s skull, and a sickening crack echoed loudly as blood spilled from the wound, vertical gush falling down of Uthok as rain, fuchsia, viscous liquid dripping copiously on the scientist and onto the pavement.

Lance’s guts flipped furiously as he immediately bent forward and emptied his stomach, guts spasming and constricting painfully; he couldn’t catch a breath and his mind went blank for an instant.

He came back to shorty after, eyes still forcibly held open; he panted, and noticed that both scientists were looking directly at him, as Rhuli wrote something else down and Uthok extracted the machete from the creature’s skull, actually having to put some strength in the act of pulling the blade out. More blood poured from the mortal wound, brains scattered as they flopped onto the mess with a _splotch._

Saliva dripped from Lance’s mouth as his body lurched forward again, his need to retch in front of the brutality making his muscles tense and aching beyond tolerance.

A few instants later, when he stopped vomiting and Rhuli was satisfied with his level of consciousness, Uthok brough the machete up and down again, this time aiming for where the creature’s ribcage supposedly was: the crunching sound of bones shattering into a million shards made Lance gag again, his body struggling against the restraints because he _needed_ to get away.

“Pl’se, st’p, no!” he rasped helplessly; his throat ached and burned because of the acidic bile and shortness of breath he was experiencing, forehead dripping, literally.

The stench of bowel and blood was revolting, and his eyes watered further.

The torture went on as Uthok mercilessly butchered the creature, long dead. And all Lance could do was watch, physically unable to turn away, to close his eyes, to plug his ears to avoid hearing slimy intestines squishing and dripping and bones breaking.

Half a varga later, it was over.

He saw Uthlok drag the creature away, and knew it was finally over.

But he was wrong. More creatures faced the same fate, Lance being a helpless witness of each slaughtered body when it dropped down.

For once, Lance wished that it was him to be subjected to atrocities, instead of being forced to assist passively. God, he couldn’t bear the strangled screams anymore, couldn’t stand the sight of nauseating blood and scattered bowels, as the innocent creature wailed in agony, its death slow and painful.

Rhuli kept scribbling furiously, looking at Lance, her guineapig, as he squirmed and yelled, wailing for it all to stop, for his team to come, for Uthok to end him too at this point.

He’d rather not see anything anymore that see another second of that massacre.

-

Many other creatures were brought and mangled, one by one, bone by bone. Varga after varga, Lance became less and less verbal, muttering occasionally as his eyes watered on instinct. His skin had stopped sweating and his breath had evened out, now almost too faint. His heartbeat was slow but steady, mind blank and unthinking.

-

When his team actually rushed in, they were shocked to find Lance in a full-blown cathatonic stupor: he stood, awkwardly bent forward as restraints digged into his covered skin, eyes glued to the pool of gore a few meters before him. Still, it didn’t look like he was staring at it actively, but only as his pupils were casually fixated in that general direction.

Keith put himself into his line of vision, cupping his boyfriend’s face, “Lance?” he called, as Pidge worked on the eye retainers, snapping their wires and allowing Lance to finally blink (he didn’t. Not immediately, anyway).

Shiro cut through the metal restraints that held the Blue Paladin’s body, and Keith took a step back to catch Lance’s falling body in the eventuality that he could fall.

He didn’t; his body stayed exactly like it was before, unmoving.

“Lance, baby, wake up!” Keith called, gently shaking his shoulders, hoping to snap Lance back to reality. But his attempts were in vain.

Hunk physically picked his friend up and ran with the others, wondering why that place was suddenly so empty.

Had they seen them coming? Why didn’t they attack, then? 

A question darted in Keith’s mind, the bare thought of it sickening: why had they left Lance _alive?_

-

Back at the Castle, Coran diagnosed that Lance seemed to be experiencing a mental block, since the trauma he had been through was too much to handle. Shiro hummed, a shaky hand covering his face: God, he could still picture his first day at the arena… There was so much blood, so many screams. But this was different.

Apart from some bruises- caused by the restraints- Lance was physically okay, meaning that he hadn’t fought. No, they had just made him _watch._

Shiro wanted to throw up and he actually did as Allura rubbed soothing circles on his back, the man’s head completely inside the trashcan in his lap.

That didn’t seem to snap Lance out of his suspended state.

He just sat on the bed, upright- Coran didn’t want to risk and change his position, he didn’t know how a human body would react to that- as an IV pumped fluids in him, because he’d been gone for several vargas and had literally cried his eyes out.

His corneas were slightly damaged- nothing a pod couldn’t fix, later- and Coran had dimmed the light as much as he could without actually having to work in the dark; he’d poured proper eyedrops in Lance’s eyes and he blinked, relief washing over the team as that seemed to be the only sign that Lance was alive, beside his heartbeat and breath.

Pidge occasionally pulled Lance’s eyelids up and down as they all spoke about what to do, hoping to soothe the burning sensation that their friend was probably experiencing.

Not that he gave any explicit sign of it, anyway.

For the first few vargas, he just sat silently.

When Keith had decided to put himself directly in front of his boyfriend again and started talking, not even pausing for more than necessary to breathe, Lance’s lips started to move, seemingly mimicking some words that Keith was saying.

It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was progress.

-

A whole quintant later, Lance was finally aware of his surroundings again, and sobbed loudly for a long, long time. Exhaustion washed over him, eventually, and he all but dropped down while he was attempting to pee- forced to sit on the bowl as nobody trusted in his mental and physical stability now. Thankfully, Keith peeked through the door and realized what was happening; he grabbed Lance before he could hit the floor and, after pulling his boxers up, he carried him to the cot, putting a warm blanket on his body.

-

It was not a peaceful sleep.

Lance woke up several times to dry-heave and sob, looking around frantically because he needed to help those creatures, he had to go now.

Everybody took turns even if Keith never left his boyfriend’s side, snoring softly once he was certain that Lance had fallen into his disturbed slumber again.

Many movements later, Lance still had trouble sleeping a whole night without jerking awake with a scream caught between his throat and lips.

-a movement after Lance’s liberation-

The echo of steps resounded into the sterile room just outside the arena, doors sliding open and immediately close as Uthok, now stripped of the hazmat suit, stepped in.

“Are the results satisfying?”.

A contorted smirk tore Rhuli’s porcelain face, not aware of the blade that would’ve sliced hers and Uthok’s throat in less than a tic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Keith's very vindictive.  
> Yesterday I made a pinky-swear that I would have posted two chapters right? Well... Not going to happen today, sorry..! It's past 1am and I work tomorrow as I did today. I'm mentally and physically exhausted, so forgive me.  
> Also, again, please check out my fic "the price of peace", please please please!


	12. day twelve: migraine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomiting, klance.

Lance knew that it was bound to happen soon, he was practically asking for it.

Between the constant debilitating fights and exhausting training sessions that he willingly chose for himself, the Blue Paladin was often forced to skip meals, or eat at ungodly hours- he justified it with the fact that time was a social construct and that those who orbited in space were above its laws. The same thing applied to his sleep schedule, if one could even define it as such: Lance struggled to remember the last time he had actually had eight hours of sleep in a row- or six, even. Four would do too.

But his nights were troubled, sleep not coming easily despite the physical exertion of Lance’s body. It wasn’t the nightmares to bother him, but the thought that he had to get better.

Allura seemed so eager to take Blue’s command and even if there hadn’t been any need for it  _ yet,  _ Lance could see that she was gifted, proceeding faster than any other of them. She moved the Castle constantly with such agility and at ease to make it seem like she was riding a bike; but all the paladins knew what an unimaginable amount of strength her actions required, and admired her for it. 

The brainy-duo, as Lance often defined it, was progressing fast with new techs that would be crucial during the final battle, and Coran was helping and teaching them more than any Garrison’s manual ever did. The three were always busy in the labs and hangars, barely seeing the others anymore, and even if Lance knew it was stupid, he felt incredibly left out. Keith, Shiro and Allura didn’t seem to mind it, so why was he so sensitive about that?

The leader of the team was usually great at giving advice, but he had recently started to isolate himself to plan new attacks, collaborating with Allura to opt for the best tactic to apply, and the Blue Paladin didn’t want to bother him.

He didn’t want to annoy Keith with his problems either, even if- from what he always said Lance was never a bother to him. And Lance didn’t doubt the truth of the statement, but also kind of did it, actually: Keith rarely seeked comfort, and since their relationship was still relatively new, the Cuban didn’t want to ruin it. 

So he started training more often and more intensely, new nasty bruises forming on his skin every single day as he progressively increased levels with the training bots.

When he went to bed, he would always find a position in which Keith wouldn’t be able to touch him too much and maybe accidentally hit a wound, he didn’t want to worry his boyfriend for that. 

Long story short, Lance was incredibly drained, constantly starved and bruised, head feeling light as a cloud whenever he got up or moved too much.

That’s how it all began.

Lance woke up feeling fine overall, and thankfully those four hours of rest seemed to be enough. Keith’s soft snores echoed in the room quietly; the Cuban smiled tenderly and leaned to leave a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before hitting the training deck. Still, he immediately noticed the dizziness that he only experienced after an intense session, and he’d only been awake for a dobosh. That wasn’t optimal, but he couldn't afford calling in sick.

They were at war, after all.

He got dressed in his armor, bathroom door shut to let Keith sleep peacefully and undisturbed, and headed for the training deck, determined to go past level 40- the others had only reached 24, apparently, but he didn’t want to brag. Training was all he could do, he didn’t have any other special ability to offer.

-

Fighting was never easy, everybody could confirm it.

However, doing it with only one eye was even harder; Lance had lost visibility in his left eye after an awkward blob of light impeded his sight for a while even after he’d rubbed the eyelid and hoped for whatever was in there to wash out with a tear. Despite his near-blind state, the boy kept fighting- he was focusing on hand-to-hand in particular since it was his weak point- and, hit after hit, he became aware of how much his body hurt.

That made him stop, interrupting the training exercise. 

A sick paladin was useless. And he was already useless when healthy, wasn’t he?

Lance’s neck was stiff, his limbs felt heavy and his joints ached terribly, indirectly sending him into a sitting position. God, he felt so uncomfortable.

He wanted to skin himself alive, because the sensation of pins and needles piercing every inch of his skin increased by the dobosh, face and left arm entirely numb; it reminded it of when he would sit on his hand on purpose and then proceed to bite it when dull, to test how far his teeth could bite without feeling pain. He scoffed,  _ children can be idiots… _

Still, he hadn’t done that now, he wasn’t testing anything: the sensation had come so suddenly to actually dizzy him more than before, a wave of chilling nausea washing over him as he breathed out an acidic burp, groaning.

When had he gotten so sick? 

He didn’t know for how long he sat there, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass, but he suddenly became aware of voices mumbling words that were unintelligible to him, hands on him- or at least he thought, as he could only feel the pressure of the touch, not the actual sensation of it- as they tapped his face lightly.

“...has he… asleep?”

“...don’t know if...”

“...take him to… room… Coran?”

Sheepishly, Lance’s ocean eyes disclosed, fluttering eyelids so heavy. His face hurt immensely, even if he couldn’t exactly describe how or why: he felt like he’d taken a direct hit on his skull, the weapon still stuck in it. Maybe a hammer, judging by the dimension of the area that hurt.

Had he been injured by a bot when he was training? He didn’t remember much.

“Lance?” a soothing and familiar voice spoke, too loud. The boy’s eyes scrunched up in agony, any external stimulus too painful to bear right now. 

“Are you alright?”.

This time, the tone was lower, barely a whisper; still, it felt like someone was playing drums and his head was right next to the cymbals. A thick layer of saliva covered his mouth and he knew too well what was about to happen, but couldn’t physically bring himself to move nor warn the others.

“Lance, baby, I need you to tell me what’s wrong”.

_ Baby… _

“K’th...” Lance breathed out, eyes barely open, vision blurred and swaying, “dunno wha’... m’head ’s...” he breathed out softly.

More voices murmured in the background, worried.

“Your head? Does it hurt?” Shiro asked, crouching next to Keith as the two stared at Lance’s sitting form, head resting against the cold wall.

A hum.

“Did you hit it?”

“...Wha’?”

“Lance, did you hit your head?”.

He paused to think: did he? No, no he didn’t.  _ Right? _

“Feel… S’ck...” he murmured, right hand- the only one he could actually feel- raising slightly from his lap as he gestured toward his face, generically alluding to something that neither of the two men in front of him understood.

Lance let his eyes slide close again to rest them, because his orbs were burning and aching, nerves behind the eyes pulling painfully.

An insistent tapping against his cheek startled him awake- when had he fallen asleep, anyway?- and he groaned, annoyed and in pain.

“Lance,” Keith spoke, “we need to get you to the infirmary right now”. His tone was urgent yet considerate, and the Blue Paladin was glad for that. He promised to thank Keith once his stomach would stop squirming and twisting. Still, Lance didn’t want to go to the infirmary, he didn’t  _ need  _ to.

His face must have been self- explanatory as Shiro insisted too on the matter, “We don’t want you to panic, but we’re afraid that something may be seriously wrong with you. We want to get you checked, nice and quick. Okay?”

_ No! _

No, it wasn’t okay at all.

He didn’t need the infirmary, he didn’t need a pod, he didn’t need anything because he was  _ fine. _

“Are you alright to walk?”

“I’d feel better if I carried him, Keith”.

A hum, “You’re right, I’ll get Coran”

-

When Shiro eased Lance onto the cot, the boy’s body decided that he needed a real reason for this short admission to the infirmary and promptly puked on his lap when his head spun a bit too much for a bit too long.

-

After declaring that the illness was not life-threatening, Coran hooked Lance up to fluids and oxygen and ordered that he rested in bed for a whole quintant at least; the fainting spells had lessened, and so did the vomiting ones, but they didn’t feel safe to let him go around yet.

When he’d regained consciousness completely, ten vargas or so, he prayed Keith- and there were real tears in his eyes, this time not caused by any migraine- to let him rest in their bed at least. The lights of the infirmary, though dimmed, were still too bright, and the nauseating stench of disinfectant didn’t help his stomach to settle one bit.

“Okay,” Keith agreed, running a hand through his own hair, “but as soon as you feel the slightest symptom, even if it’s just the aura-phase, you’re telling me and I’m dragging you back here. Understood?”.

Lance nodded, sniffling.

-   
After afew, long doboshes, Lance was put in bed by Keith, who didn't join him but only sat on the mattress, fists tight on his knees.

“Why ‘re you mad ‘t me..?” the Cuban croaked out, prying an eye open and scouting Keith’s sitting figure in the dark.

Silence followed, and Lance’s anxiety grew.

“Keith-”

“You didn’t tell me”

“I… What?”.

The Japanese boy turned to face him, and even if Lance couldn’t see his expression neatly, he knew that his boyfriend was furious. The reason behind it, however, was a mystery to Lance.

“You didn’t tell me that you’ve been running yourself to the ground. You shouldn’t have done that in the first place and, since you did, you could have at least had the decency to talk about it with me!”

“Keith...”

“Do you know how scared I was when I found you like that? God, I didn’t know if you had passed out, just fallen asleep or directly died… Your position was so awkward and- and you weren’t responding, I thought- fuck, Lance, I was scared shitless!” he yelled, and Lance winced at the volume, his head still tingling, “When you spoke like that and referred to your blindness-”  _ when did I..?-  _ “I thought you were having a stroke! A goddamn stroke, Lance. Not many recover from those, you know? And- and I thought you were dying, okay? I...”.

Keith snuffled, breathing in and out to calm his nerves, “Why have you been doing this to yourself?” he asked, sounding heartbroken as he ran a soothing hand through Lance’s hair, massaging his scalp delicately, “I care about you, we all do! You should do the same… Please”

“It was jus’ a headache…”

“I know, Lance, but… But you passed out and puked, and normally people just take meds when their head hurts and go on with their day, you know? You were stuck in bed, and still are… It was so scary.  _ I  _ was scared.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, mi amor” Lance whispered, on the verge of tears.

He had to take better care of himself: truly, a sick paladin was useless, but that was nothing compared to a sick paladin not being able to protect and love who stood beside him. He needed to take better care, for the others and his own sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less than a year ago I started suffering from debilitating migraines that force me in bed for days when they happen; this is entirely based on my experience, but just so you know, there are many more types of migraine. So, please, spread awareness!


	13. day thirteen:  experimented on + burned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: human vivisection, gore, mentions of child abuse, open finale.  
> You can find the translations of the Spanish parts in the notes at the end.

Lance’s eyes pried open, slowly adjusting to the blinding light before them. White, bright leds shone down on him, and he immediately shut the orbs close, too much in pain. It took him a couple of tics to realize that he was actually laid down on something rigid yet comfortable. The boy’s head was heavy, temples throbbing rapidly to the beat of his heart. He wondered if Coran had something for headaches, because he needed to help the others and couldn’t let himself be useless just because his skull threatened to split open. He breathed in, not wanting to move and dim the lights in his room- he was too exhausted- but groaned and propped himself up.

Or, at least, he tried to. 

Something was making it hard to move, and since he was already extremely tired, he gave up easily, letting his body sink further into the hard mattress.

His head swam once again: vertigo washed over him and he let out a muffled moan, inhaling sharply to ground himself.

He groaned, _another stupid prank..._

But no, _wait_ , that couldn’t be it. The last thing he knew was that his teammates and him were on a mission to free the umpteenth detainment center run by the Galra, then something had gone wrong, a magnetic field pulled the Lions down and pinned them to the ground; he remembered the bots surrounding them, and then… 

_Fuck._

_FUCK!_

Team Voltron had been taken. God, they had been taken and imprisoned, and then someone- their snout was hidden behind a white mask- dragged Lance away.

He didn’t remember anything after that.

So… So he’d been taken.

Lance forced his eyes open again, hissing at the lights but making it past the initial shock, eyes watering on instinct, and rapidly took in his surroundings. The blood froze in his veins as he witnessed that he was strapped down to a medical cot, the source of light being a surgical lamp just above him; next to his head there was a metal table on which various instruments that he wanted to be nowhere near him were displayed, carefully laid upon a turquoise medical paper towel. Lance shivered, hard. The restraints only let him move wiggle his feet and hands slightly, but his legs, torso, arms and head were strapped down tightly; his blue eyes darted from one side of the room to another in a desperate attempt of finding someone- preferably his teammates who were there to rescue him before things could go downhill- or something useful. But, again, he was completely immobilized, helpless against the leather strips that pinned him down. They’d also stripped him bare, as he could feel the chilly air causing goosebumps to blister his skin, his naked member brushing against the medical towel covering his hips and pudendum.

Lance wanted to cry. He had seen enough movies to know where this was going: the captors were going to pry his organs out and let him die alone, bleeding out.

He shuddered, yelping.

_No, no, please, por favor, ayúdenme, guys..!_

He was startled when someone came into the room- out of Lance’s visual field- and fiddled with machines behind the boy’s head.

There were two people, Lance could tell, and they chatted in a language that he couldn’t understand, but that sounded somewhat familiar.

God, that made it even worse.

“H-hey,” he croaked out, “let me go!” he whispered, not even fooling himself. It was evident that he was scared beyond limits, as his whole body jerked again, spasms straining his aching muscles when his vision swam again.

The voices stopped, and the masked creatures approached him, stepping into his visual field: their whole body and top of the head was covered by a turquoise scrub, hands gloved in white and masks of the same colour on their muzzle: despite that, Lance could immediately tell that they were Galra. Those bright, yellow eyes were unmistakable, piercing through Lance’s naked form like the knives set on the metal table.

“Subject 8131 has awakened,” one spoke, moving to the bedside and immediately preparing an I.V., skilled hands piercing Lance’s hand without even making him wince- and that, somehow, gave Lance hope, “begin assessment”.

The slate liquid in the glass container was viscous, and Lance hissed when the first few drops entered his bloodstream, as he felt his veins actually stretching awkwardly. He didn’t know if he was just imagining the sensation, and he was aware that it could be an option, but that didn’t make it any less painful. That thing was going to kill him. It was his euthanasia, his way out. They wanted him dead.

The second Galra hooked Lance up to what resembled a regular EKG scan; then, she brought a hand up and forced the boy’s jaw open as he struggled in vain, and shoved a thermometer in, not too gently but still not causing any damage. He gagged anyway.

“Body temp optimal. Heartbeat rate above normalcy but still within ranks.”

“Oxygen levels?”

“Optimal, though subject 8131 seems to be experiencing breathing difficulties”

_Maybe if you could remove that fucking thing from my throat-!_

“Consciousness status?”

“The subject is awake and aware,” she replied, and used the free hand to pinch the boy’s skin- he winced- and clicked her fingers near his head, to which he winced again, “reflexes are optimal”

“Excellent. We are ready to proceed, then” the first Galra said and the second finally removed the elongated thermometer; Lance sputtered and gasped, involuntary tears spilling from his eyes as he coughed.

“W-wait, ‘proceed’? Proceed to do wh- _mphh_!” he yelled muffedly as the Galra woman shoved a leather strip into his mouth and forced Lance to bite down on it, its taste revolting as he gagged again, trying to effortlessly kick his feet, only barely managing to move his ankles and wiggle his bare toes.

The liquid slowly getting into his bloodstream kept hurting and stinging nastily, making his head spin further and sending him into a spiral of panic and agony; the hand in which the needle was inserted tickled and burned, and the more he inadvertently moved it, the more the needle was jostled- even if secured with medical tape- and cut into his delicate skin.

Lance lost several shades in a dobosh, skin asheen and clammy, forehead dripping salty sweat that mixed with the tears escaping his blood-shot eyes.

“Subject 8131 seems to be having the desired reaction to substance x-30-2k,” the woman announced as she witnessed the dark, thin lines emerging on Lance’s body, his bloodstream infected with whatever they’d injected him with, fingers tracing over it gently, “we can begin preparations”.

_Oh Dios, ¿y ahora qué?_

Lance’s answer came soon as the restraints tightened further, now painfully digging his skin and most certainly causing nasty bruises to appear- not that those were going to be the worst outcome of the day. He struggled faintly, but his head felt too light and his body, on the contrary, was heavy as a rock, so his movements eased down to an almost imperceptible wiggling, limbs barely trying to move. His mouth hurt for the gag that cut his lips and gums, making them bleed, and his teeth grinded and hurt.

“The awakening procedure is complete. Prepare tools and emergency resuscitation kit” _  
_

_Espera... ¿Qué?_

They wanted him alive? So the poison- or whatever it was- that they put in his veins wasn’t meant to kill him?

_No. No no no no._

He was not going through vivisection. 

_No!_

He could handle the pain of a Pidge teasing him with their beyard, or the pain of a bomb exploding near, or the pain of being almost sucked out into space- because yes, that had hurt despite what he’d told the others later.

But being torn apart when alive was another ordeal. He couldn’t do that.

His body jerked in the attempt to free himself as tears of fear spilled from his ocean eyes, and a high-pitched, muffled cry tore from his throat. Yet, the Galra didn’t even blink at that.

The woman removed the only thing that was covering him, which would be the towel on his crotch, and folded it carefully to then place it onto another table, whilst the man picked up a dark bottle and what looked like a cotton ball, picking it up with long tweezers.

He tilted the bottle and let some of its liquid content spill onto the ball, and proceeded to damp Lance’s skin- a bit below his sternum, between the fluctuating ribs; Lance shivered at the contact, each of his dark body hair up and straight. 

No matter how much he tried to move, the expert hands wouldn’t stop.

The woman brought the metal table toward them and picked up a bistouri once the other was done disinfecting the interested area: then, without a warning, she brought the blade down, and all Lance saw for an instant was white.

The thin knife ran across the boy’s skin, the cut neat, spilling only a little blood as it sliced into the tan skin, now pale and wet in sweat, blood and foreign liquid.

Lance passed out.

His eyes simply rolled back, the shock of the agonizing pain and the fear finally getting a toll on him; he just passed out, blissfully aware that it would save him an awful amount of pain.

His relief was, however, short-lived, as he came back an instant later.

_How..?_

“x-30-2k is doing its job,” the man commented as the Galra woman retrieved some small objects that resembled fish hooks and pried the skin open, pinching its limbs painfully as Lance screamed again, crying and hyperventilating, “though we should increase the dosage”

“Why is that, if I may?”

“Subject 8131 did lose consciousness. And, even if briefly, that could compromise the test,” she explained as she looked up at Lance, impassable, “up the dosage and restrain him more, I do not wish to kill this one too”

_‘This one too’._

So there had been others before him. Others who had been _lucky_ enough to die.

“I understand,” the man- possibly her apprentice- spoke and approached the I.V. to do what he had been told to, “dosage increased by 10%, we should be able to see the results within a dobosh”.

_‘The results’?_

Results of what? They’d said that they didn’t want to kill him, and now they were waiting for results?

They waited, Lance’s abdomen still sliced open, him sobbing in excruciating pain.

A dobosh later, they seemed satisfied and kept working, though Lance didn’t really understand what they had witnessed. Nothing had changed: he was still alive, still in terrible pain. Not only from the fact of being held open in the chilly hair, not only from the fear, but from the incessant pouding in his skull that had only worsened since he had woken up.

A scalpel dove into his guts, and Lance yelled out like a madman, the pain too agonizing to bear; he prayed to God or to whatever was up there to just let him die, to end his suffering.

For an instant, the boy thought he could hear his abuelita and chuckled at his own delirious state, fully aware that he was being stabbed to his intestines, his skin stretched open as hands messed with his organs. God, he was pathetic. Couldn’t even die right.

-

 _“Ahora a lavarse las manos, la cena está lista”_ Lance’s abuelita smiled brightly as she and her daughter- Lance’s mother- served dinner to the family; the chair where Tulio, his father, was supposed to be was empty again, and Beatriz sighed, defeated. What had she married into?

They still lived in Cuba, but had started considering moving- more like, flee- once things with Tulio had gotten pretty messed up.

He would come home drunk, when he would come at all, and beat his kids and wife. Lance, oh, he was his _favourite_ to beat. And Beatriz hated that. She hated that the man she once loved, the man who’d cared for, the father of her kids- she hated that what he had become.

Sometimes she’d find her children sprawled on the floor, lips bust and eyes swollen, tears in them as they shakily rose from the ground, telling their mom that they were okay, that it was nothing.

But it wasn’t.

-

“Subject 8131 seems to have adopted a method of escaping reality which is preventing pain to influence its brain too much,” the Galra woman noticed, as the man had told her that Lance was still effectively awake, just dazed, “increase the dosage again, I don’t want him to escape reality”.

And so he did, upping the dosage and witnessing as Lance’s gaze got cleared, more aware of his surroundings.

The boy moaned, pained.

Why was he awake?

Why couldn’t he just fall into the void of unconsciousness?

Lance’s gaze set onto his abdomen- that he couldn’t see well due to how he was laid down- and saw blood spilling out. The agony was already unbearable, and actually seeing himself being experimented on like a frog in a middle-school science class was even worse; he gagged, involuntarily, and the two captors gasped at that.

“Fascinating,” the man commented, “did you see how this one visibly twisted? Amazing”

“This human’s anatomy is indeed fascinating,” the other replied, setting the scalpel down, “I shall see how true the manuals that we retrieved from their primitive planet are” she finished, and ordered to get a clean tray, a sterile box and a scale ready.

Lance cursed internally as his body started spasming uncontrollably, hooks tearing his skin and slicing through his inner organs. The Galra didn’t seem to care that much, anyway.

The Cuban was sobbing helplessly, wondering when he would eventually die.

He didn’t want to, not now and not like this, but he would gladly take not feeling anymore pain to being put through several other vargas of agony. Because yes, a varga had already passed since he’d woken up- and he’d gathered this info as the scientists kept communicating the time that each slow, excruciating procedure would take.

They had fiddled with his organs and touched his ribs, almost snapping one of the fluctuant ones as they wondered how they could stay up if not attached to the sternum and what they were eventually connected to: Lance had _tried_ to pass out at that, but of course it didn’t work.

That’s what that ominous liquid known as x-30-2k was: a substance that continuously stimulated one’s nervous system, forbidding the subject from reaching a state of unconsciousness: that explained the headache and spasms that Lance was experiencing.

And he hated it.

He hated that he wasn’t even being given a choice, that his body couldn’t even do what it was supposed to do. He gagged again, still not puking.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

The amount of pressure he felt in his abdomen was overwhelming and he barely had time to realize what was going on before pain shot through his whole body, his libs flying effortlessly against the restraints, jaw aching for biting down so violently on that disgusting leather strip. His fingertips dug into the armrests, blood pouring from his broken nails, and Lance’s chest seized rapidly, his nose alone struggling to inhale even a barely sufficient amount of oxygen. 

Lance still didn’t pass out.

His eyes set on the big, bloody lump in the woman’s hands, her gloves red and damp, “This is what the manuals referred to as ‘pancreas’, and apparently it is not needed in one’s life, though adjustments have to be done to accommodate the lack of it” she explained to her assistant, “such a primitive species, carrying organs that are not fundamental...”.

_No way._

_No fucking way._

She had taken out his pancreas. His pancreas was gone.This time, vomit spilled from the boy’s mouth, making it past the strip and ticking down his chin. Lance gasped, and the assistant ran to his side, “It appears subject 8131 is choking,” he stated, looking at the EKG, “his levels are critical”

“Remove the restraints and turn its head, then everything will fix itself” she replied, impassable, “fascinating” she then muttered while weighing the pancreas.

The assistant obeyed and Lance sputtered puke, gasping widely for air.

“Pl’se… Stop…” he prayed, eyes rolling effortlessly, “no más, p-por favor, ya no puedo más...” he mumbled, feverishly, still struggling to get air.

The restraint on his forehead was put back in its place and so was the strip between his aching teeth.

“Subject 8131’s body temp seems to have risen”

“It was taken into account. It doesn’t seem life threatening, so we may proceed”

_No… No, por favor… Por favor, déjame morir. Duele demasiado…_

What came next was sooner smelled than felt, really.

The stench of burned skin tickled Lance’s nostrils as he gagged again. She was closing the wound with fire. Cauterizing it.

Lance screamed his lungs out, moving incessantly, mind blank; the memories were too overwhelming, his father’s face coming into focus-

-

Moving to the US had not helped.

His father had found him again. Everything his mother had done to make them leave and live peacefully, all the oddjobs she’d done to increase their possibilities- it had all been useless.

_“Hijo de puta madre, ¡eres una desgracia!”_

_“L-let me go!”_ Lance struggled as the grip on his wrist only tightened, _“let me go, you goddamn bastard!”_

 _“Habla español, ¡idiota!”_ the man sneered, holding his now fourteen year old son with unnecessary strength, _“tu hablas como si fueras americano... ¡pero tú eres solo un desagradecido chico de Cuba!”_ the man laughed, removing the cig from his chapped lips, _“quizás un poco de dolor te ayudará a centrarte…”_ the man spat, and promptly dug his lit cigarette into Lance’s arm, digging deeper and deeper.

Lance screamed in agony, a horrendous wail torn from his chest as his skin bruised and burned, the stench of burnt flesh dizzying him maybe more than the pain itself.

_“Patético”._

Tears streaked down his now-pale face as he struggled to breathe.

_“Sin valor”._

He yelled for help, though aware that nobody would hear him.

_“Me avergüenzo de ti, Lance” ._

-

Lance sobbed, gasping loudly as his bloodshot eyes stared into nothingness, hands still gripping at the armrests.

It was all too real, too agonizing.

Suddenly, the hands were gone, replaced by new ones- gentler and soothing, caressing his damp hair, destroying the restraints and swaddling him in the thin blankets that were stored in the cabinet near-by. The voices were soft, kind words spoken into his ringing ears.

The second the I.V. was removed, Lance let himself close his eyes, a thin, resigned smile on his face.

_Me encontraron..?_

Were his friends really there?

He didn't know, because blue eyes rolled back in his skull, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >Oh Dios, ¿y ahora qué? = oh God, now what?  
> >Espera... ¿Qué? = wait... What?  
> >Ahora a lavarse las manos, chicos, la cena está lista = off to wash your hands now, guys, dinner's ready  
> >No más, p-por favor, ya no puedo más... = no more, p-please, I can't take it anymore...  
> >Por favor, déjame morir. Duele demasiado... = I beg you, let me die. It hurts too much...  
> >Hijo de puta madre, ¡eres una desgracia! = Son of a bitch, you're a disgrace!  
> >Habla español, ¡idiota! Tu hablas como si fueras americano... ¡pero tú no eres eso! Eres solo un desagradecido chico de Cuba! = speak Spanish, idiot! You speak as if you were American... But you're just an ungrateful boy from Cuba!  
> >Quizás un poco de dolor te ayudará a centrarte… = Maybe a little pain will help you focus...  
> >“Patético... Sin valor... Me avergüenzo de ti, Lance = Pathetic. Worthless. I'm ashamed of you, Lance  
> >Me encontraron..?= they found me..?   
> -  
> A clarification: the dialogues in italics indicate that they're set in the past (even if it's obvious), whilst the sentences in italics taht are not introduced by quote unquote are thoughts.  
> -  
> This one's pretty... Tough, yes. Poor Lance, I feel like shit for doing this to him!  
> Next chapter's gonna be lighter since I don't want to scare readers away haha (plus, the other prompt of day fourteen was dehumanization which I've already done here, so... I'm gonna do the other one instead). Also, I'm doing a "ask the writer" thing on my tumblr (@theforgottendaydreamer, I can't link stuff so let me know if you know how to, please). See you soon!  
> I'm sorry for the late update, my life is still going to shit and I'm feeling worthless, but hey, I'm gonna finish this challenge no matter what so don't worry.


	14. day fourteen: concussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: minor head trauma, vomiting, college AU.

Keith flipped through the hundreds of pages of his Mechanical Engineering textbook mindlessly, his thoughts focused on something that he didn't even know what it was. God, these exams were going to be the end of him.

He hadn't been sleeping lately, always busy with projects and essays. Eating during the day was not an option, and the only food he managed to get inside of him was eaten for dinner; despite being a pretty terrible cook, he always found a way to serve something edible for him and his roommate, Lance, who was just as busy but too clumsy these days to be let anywhere near a stove- Keith had insisted on that. 

They were both taking only five classes, so how could they be so overwhelmed by copious amounts of work? 

Yawning, Keith shut the book and stretched, far too exhausted to keep going. He didn't remember the last time he'd slept in a bed and not sprawled on his desk, drool staining the textbooks turned into makeshift pillows, but his head was far too heavy to focus and his back ached terribly for sitting for the whole day.

He got up, wobbly legs adjusting to his weight, and made his way to bed, just a few steps away- the campus' rooms weren't that big, thankfully.

"Hey Lance," he called, flopping on the mattress and knocking on the adjacent wall, behind which there was his friend's bed, "sorry to ask, but can you fix something to eat..? Please?" he muttered, already swaddling himself in the blanket.

When no answer came, Keith groaned.

"Dude, come on, I've made dinner for the past two weeks... I'm too tired to cook now and I’m also starving..." he explained, “please?”.

Silence followed and Keith moaned, distraught, and sat up, pressing the palms of his cold hands on his eyelids. After cracking one open, he realized why nobody had bothered to answer him.

It was barely 5pm.

Did that mean..? 

_Shit._ _  
_

Keith sighed and grabbed his phone, hitting Lance’s contact but soon ending the call.

 _He’s probably in the labs,_ he thought, _I’ll text him._

Slim fingers typed quickly, eyes burning because of the bright screen.

> hi, can u fix dinner tonight, please? im tired af.

> we can order something too. but you have to call, i can’t even keep my eyes open atm. 

A couple of minutes later- during which Keith’s eyelids had already started to drop- his phone buzzed.

_< sure, no probs! i’ll finish around 7pm, then we can eat. sleep until then!! bye _

> thanks! see you later 

Keith smiled, glad to have one less thing to worry about, and set an alarm for 7pm. When his head hit the pillow, he was already lights out.

-

Keith’s soft snores got interrupted by the ominous sound of the ringtone blaring loudly right next to his ear. Frustrated, he reached for the device, carelessly dropping it on the floor before deciding to wake up once and for all and finally sit up. He picked the phone up- the screen wasn’t cracked, _thank God!,_ and tried to discharge the alarm.

Still sleepy, he didn’t notice that what was sounding off wasn’t the alarm clock, but an incoming call. After discharging that as well, too dazed to realize what he’d done, he laid back down, wishing to catch a few more minutes- or hours- of well-deserved sleep.

The phone rang again.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m up!” Keith yelled, sitting up again and grabbing the phone roughly, “stupid alarms- oh?”

That wasn’t an alarm.

Someone was calling him.

He sighed and answered the call, half-heartedly.

“It’s Keith,” he muttered, annoyed, “who’s this?”

 _“Mr Kogane?”_ a feminine voice spoke.

“Huh, yeah..?”

_“Hi, this is nurse Walsh, I work here at the college. Your roommate Mr McClain is-”_

“What- is Lance okay? What did he do!?” Keith screamed, eyes wide in panic.

The woman on the other side chuckled lightly, _“He’d warned us that you would have reacted like this… He’s okay, overall, but suffered from a concussion and I need you to come pick him up, if possible”_

At ‘concussion’, Keith had already started to put his boots on and grabbed a jacket, “I’ll be there in ten, I’m on the other side of the campus-”

 _“There’s no rush, don’t worry. I’ll take care of the paperwork in the meantime”_ she finished, and hung up.  
-

Keith _ran_ to the place, sprinting like he’d never done before.

Worry churned his stomach as he arrived at the infirmary, panting, and got in after cleaning his feet on the doormat- Lance had made him get into the habit of doing that.

“Uhm, hello?” he spoke, softly and uncertain, looking around. The cots in his visual were all empty, so he instinctively made his way toward the corridor that led to the other cots, a bit hidden and isolated, dedicated to ‘more serious’ traumas.

His mind raced.

The nurse had told him that Lance was fine, so why was he-

“Oh, you must be Mr Kogane!” a woman in a white coat called, coming in front of him, “we spoke on the phone earlier,” she said, and shook his hand gently, “thank you for coming so soon”

“It’s nothing, really. How...” he hesitated, “how’s Lance?”

“He’s fine, so don’t fret. He had an unfortunate accident in the labs and hit his head. We’ve monitored him for an hour-” _they kept the secret for that long!?_ “but there’s no serious damage, and he will be fully healed by tomorrow evening at most”.

Keith let go a breath he didn’t know he was holding, anxiety starting to diminish.

“However,” nurse Welsh continued, “we need you to keep a close eye on him until then. Mr McClain needs to be woken up every three hours, and you have to ask him some questions-”

“L-like what?”

“His and your name, what he ate for his last meal, his mother’s birthday… Basic information. It’s to make sure that his brain is still functioning properly and that there’s no blood where it’s not supposed to be, to put it in layman’s terms.” she explained calmly with a reassuring smile on her freckled face, “Then, we need you to prepare something to eat that he can stomach, that would be scrambled eggs, or maybe some boiled peas and carrots. And he needs to drink a lot. No alcohol has to be involved, though”

“Alright… Anything else?” Keith asked, fiddling with his jacket anxiously.

“Well, Mr McClain has thrown up two times already, so it might happen again. Be sure to sustain him to avoid further hits to his head, and force him to drink some water, okay?”

“Okay… Thank you so much for taking care of him”.

The woman smiled and squeezed Keith’s upper arm motherly, “Come on, you may see him. Keep your voice low, he’s still a bit spacy” she smiled and moved the thin curtain, revealing Lance’s form.

The Cuban was laid on his back, bed arched so that he could stay in an almost-sitting position; his right arm was stretched out and bandaged, since the I.V. had been removed a few minutes prior, and his skin was less tan than usual. Dazed eyes flew open in the purposely dim light of the room, and Lance smiled, loopy.

Nurse Welsh smiled, “He came right away, just as you said earlier” she told Lance, patting Keith’s shoulder lightly and then looking at him, voice still low, “I’ll finish those papers and leave you a minute before discharging him”.

The Japanese nodded his head with a grateful smirk on his face, and the nurse left immediately after.

“Keith… ‘M sorry you had to come...”

“Don’t apologize, you idiot. What happened?”.

He shrugged, “Felt lightheaded and… Fell?” he explained, not knowing the answer with certainty, “but ‘m fine now”

“Yeah, everyone keeps saying that...”

“Hey-” the Cuban called out and winced, grabbing his head and scrunching his eyes shut, tight. The boy’s ears rang loudly, an annoying and everlasting _beep_ making him dizzier, more disoriented.

“-ce? Lance, what’s happening?”

“Quit yelling,” he moaned helplessly, “‘m okay, just got a bit dizzy…”

“... Can you walk at all?”.

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands, “Yes. I won’t let y’ carry me bridal style around the campus. It’s bad enough I passed out in front of other... Like... Forty people. Spare me the shame!”

Keith raised his hands defensively, gesturing for his friend to slow down, “I was just asking-”

“Oh, don’t”.

In that instant, the nurse came back and, after making both boys sign a couple of papers and handing Keith a list of “do and don’ts” for Lance, she handed Keith Lance’s backpack and finally cleared the injured teen off.

-

Halfway through the walk back to their rooms, Keith hovering close behind Lance, the Cuban suddenly lost several shades, and grabbed his side weakly, the other hand flat on the wall.

Keith knew what was going to happen and realised that he couldn’t do much to avoid it at that point. Good thing that they were outside, because an instant later Lance’s liquid vomit hit the pavement loudly with a series of _splotch._ Keith’s purple eyes watered at the smell, but he held Lance’s forehead nonetheless, rubbing soothing circles on his friend’s back.

“Man, you could’ve waited two minutes, we’re just outside our building...” he commented, unheard over Lance’s sick noises, “there, there, get it all out”.

Despite having spent three years with Lance as his roommate, Keith still hadn’t really grasped the concept of taking care of another human being. He struggled whenever it came to comforting someone, especially his best friend, who always took care of him when he was sick.

Lance gasped for air after throwing up for a minute straight, and inadvertently started to sink toward the dirty pavement.

“No, no, hey!” Keith called, tone urgent but voice low to avoid causing discomfort to Lance and general commotion, “no sleep here, no. sleep. here! Come on!”

“Five min’ts...”

“No, no, we need to get you in bed first-”

“Can’t...”

Keith was now holding Lance up, arms awkwardly bent as they rested under the boy’s sweaty armpits, fists entangled on his torso to avoid him slipping, “Hey, work with me, Lance!”

“Why..?”

“Because you can’t fucking sleep in the middle of the campus, you idiot! Come on, I’m asking you to walk for two minutes, only two. Please!”.

Despite Keith’s pleas- very rare, also- Lance didn’t comply, so the Japanese directly dragged him to the room, Lance’s shoes screeching against the floor as he was pulled along the ground unceremoniously.

When they finally, blissfully reached the apartment, Keith immediately dropped Lance on his bed; then, he turned the desk lamp on- dimmer than the actual light on the ceiling- and went to retrieve a worn-out bucket, placing it on the floor near the bed. 

“So, you need to eat” Keith stated matter-of-factly.

Lance’s face sank into the pillow as he moaned.

“I know food doesn’t sound too great now, man, but you have to eat something,” the Japanese sighed, running a hand through his hair, thinking, “I think we do have eggs. Also, the doctor said fresh veggies which… We don’t have, since we’re unhealthy. Mh… We should have minestrone mix in the freezer, though, so I’ll make that. This better not be an excuse to make me cook tonight, Lance” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He failed.

“Are you asleep?”

“Wh’re you askin’? I wouldn’t answer if I were...” Lance grunted, voice muffled in the pillow.

“Right, sorry… How’s the head?”

“Spinny...”.

A pensive hum, “Okay, that’s not too bad. I’ll get you water, then you can rest until dinner’s ready, alright?”

“No wat’r...”

“You have to, Lance...” Keith insisted, sympathetically, “only a few sips. That’s all I’m asking you” he prompted in an uncharacteristically gentle tone.

The Japanese left and came back with a glass of water full to the brim, actually dripping a bit on the floor, “Here, you’ll feel better after this, I promise”.

The Cuban moaned, and shook his head childishly, face still buried.

“Oh please, don’t be like that. Act your age, idiot”

“Dun call the concussion victim ‘idiot’, you idiot...” he slurred, turning to face Keith, “I’ll throw it up, you know that”

“We’ve got a bucket, so no problem”

“Keith...”

“Just sit up already,” the boy prompted, helping Lance’s motion and bringing the glass to his face.

“I can hold it...”

“Sorry, this is my set of glasses and I don’t trust you one bit”

“Th’s rude...” Lance rolled his eyes, cringing at the motion, and brought his trembling lips to the glass, swallowing small gulps of refreshing water down his strained throat.

After witnessing that his stomach had settled down decently, Keith brought his own pillows too and propped Lance up, so that he could lay down without being too horizontal.

“I’ll go make dinner now. Rest until then!”

“Sounds familiar...” Lance smirked, winking.

The Japanese refrained from throwing him something- _the poor guy’s movements are slower than normal now-_ and sighed dramatically loud, shaking his head.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Here,” the Japanese said, handing the boy his own phone with Keith’s contact already popped up on the screen, “call me if you need anything”.

Lance shut his eyes and held a thumb up, “Mhmh, ‘kay…”.

As Keith was about to step out of the room, Lance’s voice stopped him.

“Uhm, hey… Thank you, Keith... For… For coming to help and caring s’ much...” he said, squinting in his direction with a flustered smile.

Keith’s gaze softened as he smirked back, “You’re welcome, Lance”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the story told from Keith's p.o.v.? I've written so many concussed!Lance fics (check "falling down", "bonded for life", "help" and "a night to remember" for more) that I desperately needed a change, y'know...  
> Also, yes, I'm super late. I am unforgivable, I know that. Still, I'm deeply sorry... My back hurts and I have 🌈depression🌈


	15. day fifteen: branded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: branding, psychological damage, gore, semi-accidental self-harm, klance

Seven phoebs.

He’d been captured for seven phoebs. One would think that, after such a long, terrible time, the victim would lose track of time. But he didn’t.

They had starved him, forced him to work for them, beaten him and done unspeakable things of his slim, wrecked body during these phoebs.

And Lance, he remembered it all. 

He remembered every tic since he’d been taken, every single face he had seen, every ominous snarl that took pleasure in kicking him, the stench of death in that forsaken base, hitting him hard as soon as he was dragged in.

Lance had been deported to an unknown place- to him too, since he stayed blindfolded throughout the entire duration of the journey- and stripped of his paladin armor, thrown away without any consideration. The guards had put him into a worn out uniform, similar to the one they had found Shiro in when he was in quarantine, and forced him to assemble bots, all day long, all night long.

How did his team find him? He didn’t know. He didn’t have time to ask himself that, because as soon as the familiar rush of footsteps filled the corridor outside his cell, he blacked out.

They had found him.

That’s what mattered.

-

The hiss of the pod opening was the most reassuring sound he had ever heard in his whole existence, now.

Lance let himself slump forward, eyes still closed, as strong arms- Hunk’s, he’d recognize the cinnamon smell everywhere- grabbed him and gently eased him onto a cot.

Besides murmuring something unintelligible to Lance, the others kept quiet, as a blanket was draped over his cold body, shivering.

Finally, someone spoke, and Lance teared up through squinted eyes at that.

“Lance...”

_Oh, Keith._

He had missed him. He had missed him _so much_. Lance had missed Keith’s croaked voice, his penetrating yet gentle eyes, his corvine mane; he’d missed his hands as they would cradle his face tenderly and melt their lips into a gentle kiss, he’d missed the warmth next to him when they would curl up in bed, he’d missed his cherry scent, he’d missed every single part of him.

And Lance had missed the others as well. Hunk’s delicious food and his tight hugs, Pidge’s puns and the fun they had together, and Allura’s reassuring smiles and words of encouragement. He’d missed Shiro, the father he never had, the man who thought him more than everybody, and he’d missed Coran’s bright and gentle soul. He’d missed Kalternecker’s fresh milk and the ‘conversations’ they used to have, and he missed the mice as well.

He’d missed the Lions, especially Blue. His girl… He’d missed her a lot. He could always feel her, purring softly and distantly in his mind, asking _my Paladin, where are you?_ but never getting the answer.

Lance pried an eye open, slowly, for fear that he was dreaming again.

It wouldn’t have been the first time. More than once he’d woken up in his cell, drenched in sweat and tears because they hadn’t found him. He was still _there._

But this time it was _real._

“Lance..?” Keith called, again, an uncertain hand brushing Lance’s, only barely.

They'd been told not to crowd him, so Keith promised to try and keep his distance as much as he could bear. But now… He couldn't help it.

Then, Lance sobbed.

They were _real._

He was _back_. 

“K-Keith...” he croaked out, voice hoarse, and a glass of water was presented to him by gloved hands. He raised his gaze lightly, _has Coran always looked so… tired?,_ and drank, water dripping down his chin and onto his lap. Coughing after gulping the whole glass down, he patted his own chest, gasping for a moment.

Lance looked around, examining his friends’ faces. They looked upset, heavy circles under their spent eyes, cheeks slightly sunk, complexions paler than normal. Mostly, though, they looked _scared_.

Lance couldn’t control the tears, as he brought his shaky hands to hide himself.

He didn’t want to make them see him so weak after months spent apart, he couldn’t make them think that they had rescued an useless member of the team. Was still part of Voltron? Had they replaced him? But no, nobody seemed to be wearing the white and blue armor.

“Lance… Are you...” the words died on Shiro’s tongue.

That was a stupid question. Of course Lance wasn’t alright. He was just a kid, a kid who’d been held captive for _seven phoebs._

The man’s eyes watered, and so did the others’, but he swore to keep it together. For Lance.

“Guys- I-” the boy hiccupped, a wide smile covering his face, eyes open visible though his slim, still bruised fingers, “I kn-knew you would h-have found me!” he almost yelled, because he hadn’t felt this happy in such a long time. It felt surreal as his chest swelled in joy, ribs finally healed after months of abuse, mouth free to run and voice his thoughts.

His own voice seemed foreign to Lance, because the few words he’d spoken during the captivity were not really _his._

Arms wrapped around him as the warmth surrounded his trembling body. His friends collectively held him, because it had been too close, they had _almost_ lost him forever. And it was not okay, far from it.

But they had found him. Phoebs of tears and blood shed to find their friend had paid off, and nobody could be happier than now.

-

Coran declared Lance healed from internal injuries, and let him wander around the Castle- someone always close to him- as he’d asked. He let his mind and body run free, he jumped and clapped, hummed and whistled whenever he felt like he needed to.

His bare feet- he refused to wear shoes, since they had never let him remove the uniform if not once a movement for the time necessary to wash- walked on the cold floor, toes curling up from time to time in a violent shiver, fingers digging in his skin to ground himself. 

He was really at the Castle, his team had found him. He was okay.

It was Pidge’s turn to stay with him- they had all agreed to proceed slowly, avoiding to overwhelm him with too many people as he seemed nervous around them all- and they honestly dreaded the moment. The Green Paladin swallowed loudly, Lance still marching and looking around curiously, and sent the signal to the others. But the Cuban still seemed so out of it...

Either way, it was time.

“Lance,” Pidge called shyly as the other turned around smiling, “you should rest now… Also there is… There’s something you have to see...”

“Oh! Is it a surprise?” Lance chirped out, “I l-love surprises! I hope it’s Hunk’s space-Kopai, or- or maybe a movie night! Did- did you find new alien movies while I was gone?”

“I… I didn’t have time to do so, but if you want, I’ll find new stuff we can watch,” they smiled, heart clutching because of course, _of course_ Lance thought that any of them had done anything besides looking for him desperately, “but it’s not that… If you come, Keith will explain, but you have to…” _to stay calm_ “nevermind, you’ll understand later. Are you up to walking?”

“Of course! I could walk for ages! Oh, and look, look!!” he exclaimed after doing a flawless cartwheel, “oh- does the Castle have a gym? I bet it does!”

“Maybe..?”

“Let’s go find it!” he exclaimed, grabbing Pidge’s wrist to drag them away. 

But they didn’t move, yanking the hand away gently, “Lance, please… I need you to come with me” they muttered, holding Lance’s hand tenderly, eyes low and watery.

-

When Lance’s eyes set on his face in the mirror- Keith and Shiro hovering outside- he felt the air knocked out of himself. A trembling, pale hand rose to gingerly caress his left cheek, but stopped midair before it could brush against the ugly, burnt sign that stood vividly on his face. Lance recognized the symbol immediately: he’d seen it on the other prisoners’ faces or arms, he’d seen it embroidered in the drapes hung above his head when he worked.

 _‘Koxsan’_. Surrender.

And those bastards had burnt and carved that into his cheek.

What worried him was that he had completely forgotten about that. So… So he didn’t remember it all as he thought.

Shaky fingers gently traced over the skin in disbelief, not quite touching it, just hovering over the scar, as he tried to remember _when._

The burn mark was darker than Lance's skin tone, rough edges paler as the scar had started to fall off, probably thanks to the quintants spent in the cryopod; Lance stared, eyes wide and still, mouth slightly agape as his lips moved without making a sound.

Keith swallowed, breathing in and out to calm himself in front of his boyfriend's palalyzed state.

"Lance?" Shiro called, sensing the uneasiness in the air.

But the boy didn't divert his eyes from the reflection, so foreign to him.

"Lance..."

"Get out" he muttered through gritted teeth, gripping the sides of the sink.

Shiro and Keith bliked, "what?"

"Get. Out."

"Lance-"

"GET OUT!" the Cuban yelled, finally turning around; tears streamed down his pale face, whole being shaking in anger and disgust, "d-don't look at me, get out. Get out now!" 

"Lance, please-!" Keith started, but his brother grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the room in a matter of tics, half-heartedly.

-

Vargas went by, but Lance didn't come out of his room. Since the others had already planned to stay with him all the time, camping outside his room wasn't much of a difference, but the silence was disturbing. Lance was never silent.

He would always tap his foot, hum a song or talk to himself in Spanish, glad that the others couldn't understand him- he needed privacy and they all respected it.

Now, however, not a breath could be heard from behind the door.

Keith never left, despite everybody's suggestion to eat something warm and get some rest. He couldn't leave Lance like that. He didn't want to.

How could he?

After seven phoebs of distance...

More than half a year.

Lance had missed Pidge's seventeenth and his own nineteenth birthday, he'd missed the parties that those who were freed threw in honour of Voltron. The music, the dances, the food, the amazing dawns... And so much more. He'd missed the confession that his friends made to each other when they all couldn't sleep, anxiety churning their stomach.

For seven long phoebs.

And he'd missed it all.

-

Lance had spent those vargas on his bed, face buried in his pillow.

He'd missed the comfort, and he'd missed his friends and Keith immensely.

But it wasn't enough now.

He wasn't enough.

Because he was Galra's property.

He was theirs.

_That scar... If the pod hasn't healed it…_

Nothing could have done the trick, he thought.

Lance felt doomed. A Defender of the Universe bearing the mark of the universe's oppressors, a reminder that nobody could escape from them, that nobody was safe.

He felt like a _joke_.

The scar... If only it hadn't had that shape.

Shiro had a scar inflicted by the Galra, but it was from a fight, he had to risk his life in combat. But Lance... He had been branded.

Branded like an animal in a cage.

He had been declared theirs.

Shuddering, Lance got up from the bed, shaky knees buckling. Entering the bathroom, he flinched at the bright light, so used to that soft purple aura that encircled him for a long, too long time.

A hand rose to grab the glass in which he kept his toothbrush, dry and intact, and took the thing out, placing it on the counter. 

He didn't need that now.

However, he needed the glass. He needed a shard of it. Pointy enough to penetrate the skin, to peel that damn mark off his skin.

Lance chuckled as the grip tightened around the transparent container, breaking it silently. Rivers of blood oozed from the cuts, but he didn't even flinch when the glass penetrated his palm. He didn't care. A pod would heal it.

Delicately, he picked the longest shard out, throwing the rest of the glass in the bin.

A voice from outside the room startled him, but he didn't move.

_"L-Lance? What- what was that? You okay? Hey, Lance? Please, open up!"_

Lance smiled, exhaling from his nose as he closed his eyes. Keith. He had missed Keith so much. He wanted to kiss him, hug him, talk to him all night long, make love to him to the notes of the few songs he had on the mp4 player he'd found at the space mall. He wanted to make amend for those phoebs spent apart.

_Don't worry, Keith, I'll be out in a dobosh._

Opening his ocean eyes again, determined, Lance grabbed the shard firmly, looking at the ugly mark on his skin one last time.

" _Open up or I'm kicking the door down! Lance!? Please, please baby, answer me!!"_

The glass sliced his skin, and Lance yelped, tears streaming down his face along with the blood that then pooled in the sink. 

_I have to get rid of it. I have to get rid of it. I have to get rid of it. I have to get rid of it. I have to get rid of it. I have to get rid of it. I have to get rid of it. I have to-_

A kick on the door.

_"Lance!! What's going on!?"_

Another kick.

_"Help!! Help me open this!!"_

_"What's going on-"_

_"Just help me!!"_

Lance cut through the mark to make it impossible to recognize, breaking the curse, breaking out of that prison, being nobody's.

He was free.

Blood oozed from the horrible wound, copper, crimson liquid dripping unceremoniously onto his clothes and bathroom rug, staining it permanently. But he didn't care. He was free.

A satisfied laughter was torn from his throat as he witnessed that he wasn't able to read the symbol anymore.

_"Lance!!"_

_"Pidge, hack this fucking door NOW!"_

_"I-I'm trying!"_

_"Hunk, get Coran, go get him!"_

_"Keith, breathe-"_

_"Lance, open the door, I beg you, I'm imploring you!"_

More incessant pounding on the door followed, but Lance couldn't hear any of it, too busy to admire his masterpiece.

He did it.

He had freed himself.

The door slid open with a hiss and six pairs of feet rushed in loudly, skidding to a halt in front of the blood-curdling sight.

Lance turned around slowly, a soft grin on his bloodied face, and put a thumb up, heavy eyebags under his now-dazed eyes, "I'm free".

Then, the room got darker and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update!!! I'm unforgivable and an idiot as I decided to rewrite the story after finishing it. Sorry!!! Hope it's good enough...  
> Please come say hi on my tumblr @theforgottendaydreamer for I am lonely and sad.  
> Fun fact: the word 'koxsan' in Galra (my invented version, I mean) is inspired by the Japanese 降参, kousan. I wanted to invent a word that had- in a very remote and contorted way- a connection to something real. I wanted to use some Italian or Latin word but they sound too similar to 'submission' and wouldn't have had any effect.


	16. day sixteen: sleep deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: insecure Lance, mild hallucinations, klance.

_More._

He had to train more.

He had to be better, he had to prove that he wasn’t _useless_.

He had to prove it to the team, and mostly to himself.

Lance cursed under his breath as his head spun, yelling for the training sequence to end to regain his breath. God, he was tired.

And hungry, and sleepy. And mad.

“Better… I have to be better… For the team….” he muttered to himself, straightening up.

Everybody had improved significantly, yet he was always one step behind the others, the weak link of the chain. And he couldn’t afford it. Lance wasn’t intelligent like Pidge, Hunk or Coran, he wasn’t a brilliant fighter and pilot like Keith, and he wasn’t a born-leader like Allura and Shiro. Heck, even the mice and Kalternecker were more useful than him, providing fun, reaching tight spaces and feeding delicious milkshakes. 

But Lance… He was just a boy from Cuba.

Lance was the runner-up, close to greatness in his field without ever quite achieving it. And this hurt him immensely. 

He had realized it a whole movement prior, during dinner: the others discussed what they had accomplished that day, and when his turn came, the room fell silent. What had he done? Had he provided any help to the fight against the Galra regime? 

_No..._

No, he hadn’t.

So he had started training more often, with growingly-intense sequences, bones and muscles aching terribly at the end of the day. 

Just when his body would tell him that he desperately needed to rest, Lance would excuse himself and head to his and Keith’s room, flopping onto the mattress heavily.

However, sleep didn’t come easily; at night, he would lay in bed with Keith, snoring softly at his side, but he couldn’t close his eyes. Too many thoughts swirled in his spinning head, too much anxiety to handle as his chest would swell up unable to catch a full breath.

His _friends_ were going to kick him out of the team if he went on like that, he was sure of it.

With that constant reminder, Lance stopped showing up in the kitchens when the others were there- he didn’t want to make them see that he was wasting his time- and limited himself to grab a couple of snacks to keep himself upright during fights. During the night, when the Castle was silent and the hallways were empty, Lance would carefully get up and head to the training deck to spend a couple of more vargas there, trying to catch up with the others, to get on their level.

Keith would come look for him sometimes, sleepy eyes scrunched in worry when he asked why Lance wasn’t in bed with him.

The Blue Paladin used to mutter an excuse, that he was thirsty or that he needed to walk a bit in order to clear his mind, and promised to come soon. He never did, though.

-

“Start… Start level sixty-one… Again...” Lance croaked out through gritted teeth, holding his aching ribcage, huffing out puffs of hot air.

The Cuban braced himself as his enemy appeared, and he readied himself for the umpteenth hand-to-hand combat of the night.  
“B-bring it on, asshole” he smirked, tightening his fists.

And so the battle began.

It didn’t last long- just like the previous one- as the bot skipped Lance across the deck like a pebble in a matter of doboshes, actually cracking a rib or two. But the paladin didn’t care.

The Blue Paladin got up, shaky arms painfully holding his body up, and he ordered for the ship to start again. Bile rose up to his throat but he swallowed it down rapidly because _no,_ he was _not_ going to be sick during training, he needed to get better, he _wanted_ to get better.

He was going to beat this bot. He was going to beat all of them.

-

“Lance..?”

_Punch, dodge, kick, dodge, dodge, jump, shoot, dodge-_

“...Lance.”

_Die, die, die, die, die, die, die-!_

“Lance, hey, what are you doing?”

_Kick, jump, kick, shoot, shoot again- wait, what?_

Lance stopped the training sequence, turning around slowly. The room spun, but he stayed upright- used to that by now- as he set his tired blue orbs on the boy before him, a pale hand cradling his messy hair as he yawned.

“Keith..?”

“What are you doin' here? It’s past 3AM...” the Red Paladin inquired, arms crossed now, “are you okay?”.

Lance’s face scrunched up in confusion, and blood rushed to his ears with an annoying hissing sound dizzying him further.

Keith immediately noticed his boyfriend’s sunk cheeks, face asheen and sweaty, bloodshot eyes popping out vividly above the dark craters that were his eyebags. Everything about his posture indicated agony, knees and back bent forward, limbs trembling and twitching.

He stepped forward to steady him as he wavered, but Lance recoiled from the touch, and Keith didn’t insist for now. Still worry churned his guts.

“It’s so late, Lance... Why are you training now?”

“Wha-?”

“Nevermind. What’s going on?” Keith asked after a pause, approaching his boyfriend slowly, concerned look in his sharp eyes, “what’s wrong, baby? Are you feeling okay..?”

“Nothing? Nothing, I’m- I’m good. I’ll be in bed in a second, I was just- just getting water”

“Huh… Getting water at the training deck, with a bot kicking at your ass?” the Japanese asked, raising an eyebrow, “please, talk to me. What’s bothering you? You’ve been… Strange in the past few days, and I don’t like it”.

“I’m good”

“You are not, Lance. Also, you’re bleeding...”

“Wh-what..?”

“Idiot, come here,” Keith called, grabbing Lance’s head gently and tilting it sideways, “looks like a shallow cut, you’ll be okay thankfully," Keith concluded, handing Lance a small handkerchief and making him press the clean cloth against the wound, "but… Again, why are you training at this hour in your pajamas? Are you crazy!?"

_"You have to take your meds, mi amor!"_

"I will, mamá, don't worry-" Lance muttered, scratching the back of his head and blushing slightly.

"What did you say?"

"...Huh?"

"Lance, what did you just say?" Keith asked, eyes wide in shock as he grabbed his boyfriend’s head, “shit, do you have a concussion?”

“No, no, why? I’m-”.

_"You skipped your medication for a long time, didn't you? Lancito, you know it's bad for you!"_

"I-" Lance scrunched his eyes shut, swaying a bit but regaining balance quickly, "I left meds on Earth- I- it’s not my fault..." he murmured, opening his eyes again to look at the woman, her fists tight on her chest as she eyed her son worriedly “ _Why didn’t you tell them?_ ” she asked, sighing. He averted his gaze, staring at the floor in shame.

She was right.

“I- I thought I could handle it-”

“Meds..? Lance.” Keith called, voice stern as he put himself in front of his boyfriend, eyes wide in confusion, “who- who are you talking to?”.

The Cuban looked at him in confusion, before gasping lightly, “oh.”

He really couldn’t handle it. 

Keith tightened his grip on the boy’s cheeks, “What do you mean ‘oh’?”

He let out a laugh, resigned as he blushed, “I’m… I’m imagining her, aren’t I? When I'm tired, I... She's not... N-nvermind...”

“She? Who..? Who are you seeing, Lance?” the Red Paladin asked, looking behind his shoulders, nobody standing behind him.

Lance raised a slim, shaky finger, face still in Keith’s hands, and he pointed it toward where the woman was standing, supposedly, as she shook her head, _“Mijo, you’re making him worry again… You’ll lose him like that, you know?”_

“You’re- you’re crying!” Keith breathed out, removing his hands from Lance’s face as the taller boy sobbed, “I’m taking you to Coran, and I’m calling Shiro too.”

“No, no, it’ll pass, it-” he hiccupped, “it won’t last for long...”.

But the Red Paladin didn’t care, as he grabbed Lance’s wrists, gently, and dragged him away, pacing slowly and taking the long road, passing in front of Coran and Shiro’s rooms to ask them for help. It was rare to see Keith that worried, but when it came to Lance, it was understandable.

They were almost at the infirmary, not a sound being made if not for Lance’s occasional gasps and sniffling, when the Cuban’s head felt light, too light, and his knees gave out.

“Shit! Lance, hey, what is it?” Shiro asked, crouching in front of the boy as Keith held him sat up from behind, “are you dizzy?”.

A shaky, tiny nod.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry. You think I can carry you to the infirmary? It will take only a couple of doboshes, I promise. I’ll go slowly, alright?” he offered with a warm smile, even if the boy wasn’t looking at him. He then eyed Coran, mouthing to prepare the infirmary for Lance, and the ginger man ran ahead.

“Wh’r we going..?” Lance slurred, eyelids suddenly heavy, “I hafta train…”

“No.” Keith spoke, harsh tone startling everybody including himself, “what you need now is a pod, and meds apparently?”

“No, pl-please, ‘m good...”

“Wait, meds?” Shiro asked, as he propped Lance up as the boy moaned, tears streaming down his face anew, “what meds? Lance?” he asked, picking the boy up bridal style.

He didn’t answer.

“Earlier, he was… Talking to someone. I don’t know who, and then he mentioned his meds. I… I don’t know what kind,” Keith explained, “is he going to be okay..? I’m… I’m really worried, Shiro” he muttered, fiddling with his hands.

The man’s gaze softened, “Of course you are… Don’t worry, he’ll be fine”.

-

“It appears that Lance’s brain activity is giving the lad a hard time sleeping,” Coran explained after he got Lance hooked up to a fluids I.V., for safe measure, and scanned him from head to toe, “how long has it been since you managed to close your eyes for at least four vargas in a row?”.

Lance shrugged, “Dun remember…”.

“Fuck, Lance, this isn’t good. Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t sleep?”

“And why can’t you?” Shiro added to Keith’s question, equally concerned.

Another shrug.

“Please, you must collaborate with us. You are in critical conditions and I mean no harm, but I will sedate you if you do not give us any other option. It’s for your own good, my boy” the Altean said, eyes fixed on Lance’s tired ones, which widened dramatically.

“No! D-don’t, pl-please! I... I have to train, I can’t-”

“You already trained this afternoon for almost three vargas, Lance! You need to rest!” Keith snapped, fists tight, “why are you pushing yourself so far?”.

Shiro and Coran stepped back, heading to the other side of the infirmary to let the two have their privacy.

“I-” fat tears welled up at the corner of Lance’s eyes, “I need t’ be better… I’m sorry...” he sobbed, hiding his face, “‘m not good enough, ‘m weak, I dun wanna leave th’ team...” 

“Why would you leave us?” Keith asked, sitting on the cot too as he caressed Lance’s back soothingly, his hysterical cries echoing in the infirmary.

He wailed, shaking his head, “Be-because ‘m weak, I n-never help, ‘m so not worth keepin’... ‘s the meds, I’m stupid without them!”

“Meds for what, exactly?”

“Nothin’-”

“It’s not ‘nothing’, Lance, it’s high time you face it. Please, I’m begging you, talk to me… I won’t be mad or anything- why should I? I promise, but please tell me… We can help. Whatever it is, we can solve it. Together.” he finished, cradling his boyfriend’s hands and kissing them gently. 

Lance smiled, and hiccuped, trying to dry the tears, “I… I have ADHD. W-with my meds I could sleep and be al-almost smart, b-but without those I’m- I’m a disaster. ‘M stupid, an idiot, I- I can’t do anything. I- I thought I could- But-” he groaned, defeated, “too many things to think of, I- I have to be better- I’m not- I’m not good enough!! When- when I'm like this I can't sleep and... Sometimes I- I just don't go to bed f-for some days. And I see things, but- but then I sleep and everything goes back to normal..."

"So this has happened before?" Shiro asked, tone firm yet gentle.

A hum, "I hate myself, and e-everybody else does, I know it. Th's why I have to be better...” he screamed, and Coran actually started preparing the sedative at that, Shiro keeping a distance but ready to jump into action.

Before he could, however, Keith spoke.

“Who said that? Lance, nobody said something like that! We all love you immensely and we know your worth. Not only you’re the kindest and brightest soul, but- you are an excellent sniper too, and your observation skills saved our ass more than once! Hell, we wouldn’t even be here without you! How-” Keith laughed, his own eyes shiny in tears, “how can you think you’re not worthy? Seriously, baby. Look around you… You kept us all together for this whole time, and we wouldn’t be the same without you. Honestly, I don’t want to ever find out what we would be without you. I love you, the others do too, and you, Lance, you are special and worthy. You are not weak, you are not stupid and you don’t certainly need to train that hard. So… Just sleep. I’m here with you”

“You’re saying th’t o-only because I’m cryin’...” he sobbed, “I can feel it-”

“Do you doubt my love for you?” Keith blurted out, and Lance’s heart skipped a beat.

_No._

_Of course not!_

“I know you don’t,” Keith reassured, tone softer, “so… Trust me. Please. I’m not saying this for any reason if not for the fact that I deeply care about you. Just… Sleep. If you can’t, we can try sedatives until Coran synthesizes space adderall, huh? And in the meantime we can cuddle, I can tell you a story or- or whatever you need. But please, for now, you must sleep… Please, Lance...”

The Blue Paladin gave an imperceptible nod, a thin smile on his pale face, “I’ll… I’ll take the cuddles if- if you want to” he murmured shyly.

Keith’s gaze softened, as he eased down next to Lance on that tiny cot, “Gladly”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too proud of this, but it's bound to happen when you don't write in days and think you're good enough to begin without warming up haha. Gonna update three more chapters within the next 24h, so keep an eye on this fic ;)


	17. day seventeen: poisoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomiting, fever, hallucinations, seizures, major character death.

“Care for some nunvill?” Coran asked, presenting the glass before Lance’s eyes.

He groaned, raising his hands, “Absolutely not! Take that away from me-”

“But it’s good for your metabolism and digestive process!”

“My digestive process is okay, thank you very much. Ugh, it smells awful, Coran, take that away!” the Cuban yelled, stepping back defensively.

“How can you be so loud to be heard from the other side of the room during a party?” Shiro chuckled, approaching the two after dismissing a Lefgu- inhabitant of the planet they were on- he was talking to, “what’s up?”

“Coran’s trying to kill me” Lance pouted.

“Man, wait for the celebration to end, at least!”

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Shiro”.

The three laughed, “So, how are you liking the party so far? Are the Lefgus enjoying themselves?” the Altean asked, sipping the dreaded drink calmly.

“I really hope they are. This can be our chance to have a planet twice as populated as Earth on our side. They have advanced weapons and high-tech intelligence, so they’re fundamental to win the war,” Shiro explained, “I just don’t like that the Castle is so… Crowded. I don’t want to repeat the accident” he sighed, eyeing Lance as the boy shrugged.

“It’s been phoebs, don’t worry about that, I’ve recovered. Besides, it was just bad luck! Not all parties end with me almost dying” he smirked.

“Can you not joke about that?” Shiro asked after groaning, as Coran shook his head.

“Fine, fine, sorry guys. Hey, I’m gonna go check on the others” he chirped out, taking a bite of whatever was on the floating tray that passed near-by, “mh, dis is good!” he swallowed, “see you later, paladudes!!”

“Lance, do not isolate yourself from the others!” Coran reminded as the boy was already walking away; he raised a hand in the air, giving a thumb up, “I won’t, don’t worry!”.

And so he left.

A few doboshes later, he stumbled into Pidge and Keith, who were chatting with a native, gesticulating widely as they explained the science behind Voltron.

“Ah, there he is! Lance,” Pidge called, waving a hand, “Hozi, my friend here, was wondering how you connected with the Blue Lion for the first time, back on Earth” they explained, and Keith nodded along.

“Oh- that was amazing! When I saw the Lion, I instantly felt something in the back of my head, a voice, or more appropriately some signals, waves of energy that flowed in my body. It was… Uncomfortable at first. But Blue, oh, she told me every single thing I needed to do! Believe me, I did not expect to be flung out into space at the early age of seventeen, but it’s been one of the most amazing experiences ever!" he exclaimed, eyeing the alien before him "You… You are familiar, have we met?” he asked, scratching his chin.

The alien in front of him widened his three, pitch black eyes, “I… Don’t think so? I’ve never left my homeplanet, so...”

“Oh, sorry then! I must have mistaken you for somebody else!” Lance laughed, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, huh-”

“Hozi!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hozi...” Lance smiled charmingly, winking.

The Lefgu gasped, ten-finger hands clapping in excitement, “Oh my Fyhj, I’m so excited right now! M-may I ask for a photograph with you, please? I-” he blushed, lemon skin getting pink on the puffy cheeks, “I’ve been a fan since day one… Sorry, it’s a bit weird-”

“Not at all!” Lance gasped, on the verge of joyful tears, “we can take a hundred photos, I can sign something too! Oh, it’s the best day of my life!” he breathed out, taking his phone- Pidge’s curtesy- in his hands as he opened the front camera, already hugging Hozi.

“Easy there, loverboy-” Keith joked, but a bony elbow jabbed his ribs and he winced, eyeing Pidge angrily.

Lance looked in the camera, Hozi at his side, and began taking picture after picture, changing the angles and his expression to find the perfect one, chatting between one take and the other.

Keith rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering an excuse, while Pidge stayed close- they had all agreed silently to never leave Lance alone at parties ever again- and started to talk to another Lefgu, a few steps away from the two taking photos.

“Oh, we look good here! Wait, let me just-” Lance turned the phone slightly, “oh, perfect! The light is really highlighting our eyes, huh?”

“Yes, I agree! Can we take one more?”

“As many as you want, dude! Here, say ‘nuuuunvill’- wow, this is the best one! More?”

-

A couple of vargas later, the party ended, as the hundreds of Lefgus left the Castle, bowing in front of the Princess and shaking the Paladins and Coran’s hand, thanking them all for their protection.

“Well, it’s been fun. I’m gonna hit the sack-”

“That will have to wait, Keith. We need to hold a briefing session first...” Allura cut in gently, “I’m sorry, but this is fundamental… It will be quick” she assured.

The Red Paladin groaned, crossing his arms, but stayed put.

“Uh, what about a midnight snack in the meantime?” Hunk chimed in, smiling widely, “honestly, tose tiny portions didn’t stuff me at all”

“Same” Pidge raised their hand.

“Yeah, that’s true” Keith nodded, and Coran too.

Shiro let out a soft laugh, “Alright, since going to bed with an empty stomach is bad, we can have this snack. We deserve it, don’t we?”

“Bless you, Shiro!” the Yellow Paladin sniffled, “I’ll go make something. Anyone wants anything special?”

“Space s’mores?” Pidge proposed, and everybody agreed.

Well, almost everybody.

Lance remained silent, clutching at his side weakly, “I’ll- I’ll have a glass of water...” he breathed out, licking his lips, unusually dry and pale.

That’s when the others looked at him attentively, scanning him carefully; he was, indeed, looking sick.

“Are you feeling alright?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, your skin’s ashen, dude...” Hunk pointed out, worriedly, “are you coming down with something?”.

He shrugged absentmindedly. Squinting his eyes, he noticed that suddenly there were two Hunks in front of him, and he brought a shaky hand up, pressing it against his face.

“-ing on? Lance?” someone asked, as hands pressed against his back to support him when he crouched down- when had he started sinking, anyway?

Lance forced his eyes open, head pounding incessantly, his temples throbbing to the rhythm of his heartbeat, fast and erratic.

He saw Keith’s lips moving, but couldn’t quite understand what he was saying. A hand flew to his forehead, and the owner- _Allura..?_ \- retrieved it in shock, gasping.

“He’s burning up! We must get him to the infirmary right now!” she commanded, and Coran ran away to get the place ready, the princess following him close.

_What..?_

He was hot?

But he was feeling so, so cold. A shiver wrecked his body further, sending him into Keith’s arm- he was still crouched down in front of the Blue Paladin to ascertain the situation- and he shook violently, gritting his teeth in pain. God, his insides felt like they were melting, guts twisting and making the boy wail in agony, arms wrapped around his middle in a faint attempt to ease the pain.

“-thing bad? Lance?”

“H-huh?”

“Did you eat something bad?” Pidge asked, as Shiro picked the boy up, hurrying toward the infirmary.

“Mn- no- I- I don’t kn-”.

_Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait!_

“Sh’ro, st’p-” he hiccuped, an acidic burp making its way up his throat, “Sh’ro-”

“We’re almost there, Lance, hang on!” the man said, not lowering his eyes and focusing on walking as fast as he could.

But Hunk would have recognized that precise expression, that green-ish tinge, that sparkle in someone’s eyes from a mile.

“Shiro, put him down!” the Samoan yelled, and Shiro halted, confused.

“Wh-”

“Now!” he screamed, eyes wide and frantic; the leader rapidly lowered Lance to the ground, trying to ease him onto his back. However, Lance had other plans and rolled on his side, just in time to start puking his guts out, loudly, nauseating vomit hitting the floor with a wet _splotch_ as the Blue Paladin heaved helplessly, Hunk getting him in a kneeling position and caressing his back soothingly.

“Fuck- fuck! What is going on?” Keith asked, biting his nails as Pidge stood in shock.

“We need to drag him to the infirmary as soon as we can!” Shiro barked, “Pidge, find a bucket- two, find two! Keith, immediately warn Allura and Coran to prepare fluid bags and more buckets, and- and a lot of ice. He’s boiling, it can’t be good...” the man winced as he touched Lance’s forehead again, “go!”.

“Lance-” Hunk called when the boy gasped for air, between one dry heave and the other, “what did you eat?”

“N-normal stuff-” he groaned, “f-fuck, it hurts-”

“Could it be his appendix?” Shiro questioned, sharp eyes meeting Hunk’s.

“I don’t know-”

“I-” Lance coughed, “got it out wh’n I was ten...” he explained, “I dun have th’t anymore...”.

He vomited again.

“Shit. Shit.” Shiro ran a hand through his sweaty hair, anxiety welling up in his throat.

Just then, Pidge came back with some bins they’d found in nearby rooms; Shiro wasted no time as he picked the Cuban up, gave him a bucket and sprinted off.

During the run, Lance had lost consciousness- just a dobosh before they arrived at the infirmary. The Japanese man placed him onto a cot and Coran and Allura started scanning him in the blink of an eye, the others hoovering close, hearts beating fast.

Without taking too many sanitary precautions, Coran drew some of Lance’s blood- Keith had to turn away at that, cringing and shaking at the sight- and analyzed it. Still, the process would have required at least ten doboshes, even with Altean technology, and they didn’t know if they had that long before Lance could- _no._

No. Lance was not dying.

No way. 

Just then, their whole world skidded to a halt, because before they realized it, Lance was seizing.

Hard.

“No, no no no no, LANCE!” Keith yelled, raising the bed's barriers so that his friend wouldn’t fall down. He was frantic now, breath hitching as Lance spasmed uncontrollably, uninhibited, pink froth staining the corner of his agape mouth.

“Shit- Coran! We need those results now!” 

“I cannot make it go any faster, Shiro!” the man replied, voice high-pitched and panicked.

Hunk grabbed his hair tightly, choking a sob, and Pidge muttered loudly, telling their friend to fight it.

Then, as if on cue, the boy slumped back, still as a corpse.

A shaky hand reached for his shoulder when Lance started shaking again, and Allura recoiled with a scream.

The cycle repeated itself three more times, Lance seizing for about a dobosh each time, sometimes thirty tics more, sometimes thirty tics less.

And it was agony, both to experience and to watch that cruel show unraveling before their eyes. So, when he stopped seizing and didn’t start again, they immediately began working on him: they tried fluids and the Altean version of paracetamol to fight the fever off, as it reached more than 104°F during the walk to the infirmary, but nothing seemed to be working. They cooled him down with a cloth full of ice cubes, wiping it on his now stripped body- when Allura saw his Blue Lion briefs, she chuckled- and they tried to make him swallow cold water that, however, got expelled in a matter of tics. He was not getting any better: as instants went by, his lips gained a sickly purple tinge, tan gone and replaced by a ghostly complexion.

And all his friends could do was watch.

So they started gathering ideas and options, anything to cure Lance. They rapidly searched for healers on the planets surrounding them, for space-hospitals, for whatever or whoever could help. Their search was in vain.

The Cuban stirred a dobosh later, eyes blinking sheepishly in confusion.

Nobody was looking at him, as they spoke in a circle, advancing hypothesis and possible cures for whatever was afflicting him right now. 

But he didn’t know that, because he couldn’t _see._

“G-guys-” he called, panic evident in his voice, “I- I can’t see! I- I can’t, I-” he choked out, tears streaming down his face.

“What!?” Hunk gasped, running to his bedside to hold his hand tightly, “wh- what, Lance, no, what-”

“‘M scared…”

“It’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay!” Keith reassured because he refused to believe what they all thought, he refused it, “w-we’re all here, and Allura and Coran are running the scans-”

“Can you hold on for a bit more?” the princess asked, caressing the boy’s wet cheek, “we will find a cure to whatever is happening, okay? Please, hang on”.

Pidge swallowed, eyeing the ginger man, “How long till-”

“Three doboshes, keep him talking!” he yelled, typing on the pad furiously.

“Can you tell us what you’re feeling?” Shiro asked, eyebrows knitted in worry.

“I- my stomach hu-hurts, ‘m dizzy, I- I can’t s-see-” the teen sobbed, shivering, “‘m cold and ‘m so tired. I want m-mamá”. 

“She- she can’t be here now, Lance, but- but you’re gonna meet her so soon, I promise” Hunk muttered, breathing out softly, “and she’ll make you the best papa frita ever, and- and you’ll have to invite us over, alright?”

“I ne-need mamá!”

“She’ll be here in a dobosh,” Shiro lied because what else was he supposed to do? The kid was delirious, in pain, scared. He wouldn’t let him down, he wouldn’t let him understand that his main source of comfort was thousands of lightyears away, “she says she wants to know what you did tonight”.

Keith’s eyes widened as he mouthed his brother’s name in shock, but the leader ignored him for now.

“I- I tried nunvill ag-again and it su-sucked,” and Coran huffed out a laugh at that, “th-then I d-danced a bit and- and I m-met an alien wh-who wanted pics w-” Lance’s sentence was interrupted by a violent trembling, so violent that he almost fell out of the cot, “he wanted pics wi-with me” he explained, “h-he was a fun g-guy” he thought out loud, “why a-aren’t all aliens s-so kind with m-me? I- I wish they were-”

“Everybody should be kind to you, Lance. Tell us who acts mean next time, we’ll teach them!” Pidge reassured, stroking the boy’s damp hair back.

“What guy?” Shiro questioned, agitated.

“He asked Lance for some photos and-” Keith paled dramatically before he could finish the sentence. Without a warning, he picked Lance’s head up, scanning his nape and neck attentively.

“Keith, what are you-”

“Fuck.”

“What- oh. Oh no…” Pidge gasped, horrified as Keith retrieved his hand from behind Lance, blood staining his trembling fingers. He stared at them blankly.

“When… When that Lefgu slumped his arm around you- he-”.

That bastard had poisoned Lance. He’d used one of those thin transparent needles to inject the poison in his bloodstream, near his brain.

_Fuck._

“Lance, baby, I’m so sorry, I- I should have noticed, I-”

And he actually smiled, “Why’re you apologisin’, Rachel..?” he muttered.

“Rachel?” Pidge questioned, before it clicked.

Oh. Oh no. This was bad.

“I’m- I’m not-”

“We have it!” Coran yelled, startling the others as he read the results, going silent as he read through the scans, expert eye looking for useful info, filtering out everything unnecessary.

“Quiznak...” the man muttered, shaking.

“Coran?”

“It’s- no… Allura, it’s Glyox. It’s- quiznak, it’s-” he breathed out, and Allura brought shaky hands to her mouth, covering it as she gasped, tears shining in her cerulean eyes.

“No..! It can’t be!”

“What- what’s Glyox!? What is it?” Pidge asked, on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Glyox is…” the man explained, bending on the holographic board, “deadly poison. There is no cure. There… there is no cure for it...”

“No, no! We-we have to try, there has to be a way!!”

“But there isn’t, Keith! We tried many times before, everybody did! There is no cure to this in the entire universe! There wasn't one before, and ten thousand years later it’s still the same!” Coran screamed, fists tight as he sobbed.

“...How long does he have..?”.

Allura choked back a sob, “It’s been too long… He’s...”

“Poison..?” Lance asked, voice low and barely audible, and Keith started crying, fat tears rolling down his pale cheeks as he witnessed the boy’s confused state, blind eyes wandering without aim, “who’s been poisoned..?”.

Hunk sobbed, covering his face, “It’s- it’s going to be okay, man” he forced out, though his trembling voice didn’t fool anybody. 

God, why him? Why Lance?

“Shh, Marco, ‘s okay...” the Cuban whispered, reaching for his friend’s hand and smiling when he got it, “wh-where’s everybody? ‘S dark in here… why is it dark..?”

“Because-” Shiro cried, heartbroken, “it’s time to go to bed, Lance...” he hiccupped, holding onto the gurney.

“Luis… Are you okay..?”

“M-me?” the leader asked, before shaking his head, sniffling, “yes, yes Lance, I’m- I’m okay… You should rest...”. He caressed the boy’s calf, sitting at the bottom of the cot, averting his gaze.

Pidge took their glasses off, burying their face in the crook of the elbow, muttering imperceptibly, “Y-yeah, he’s right...”

“Rachel… Why’re you cryin’?” Lance asked, sadness painting his face, “did s’mthin’ happen in school..?”

“No,” they laughed bitterly, smiling tenderly, “it’s all good… Don’t worry...”

“‘Course I worry p-por mi familia...” he smiled, eyes watering up, “Veronica’s gonna be mad… If… I don’t text her goodnight...”

“I’m- I’m right here,” Allura stepped forward, kissing his sweaty forehead, bangs plastered to it, “I love you, brother” she spoke softly.

Lance sheepish grin widened, “I love you too… I love you all...”.

They sobbed collectively, gasping. This wasn’t really happening. Not like this. Not because of some stupid party, not Lance.

_Not like this._

Coran collected enough strength to walk back to the others, caressing Lance’s free hand.

“Y’should meet m’ friends from space…” he muttered, delirious, “Hunk… Pidge… Keith… Shiro… Allura… Coran… They’re… They’re awesome… So… So brainy and… Fun. I… I love them… So… So much! Pl-please tell them..?”

“They love you too. Immensely. They love you, Lance. We love you.” Keith hiccupped, tightening the grip around Lance’s hand. 

He smiled tenderly, looking up to the others without even seeing them.

“Thank you...” he breathed out. 

And with that, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Hozi tell the truth? Why did he kill Lance?  
> You will never know!!  
> -  
> Well, that went downhill really fast...  
> Sorry, people.


	18. day eighteen: forced nudity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: forced nudity, violence, traumatic experience.

* * *

Lance had been captured.

_Again._

He didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be.

What was it now, the fifth time in a phoeb?

The boy let out a dry chuckle, head pressed back against the metal wall of the cell. On one hand, he was glad to be the one always targeted, because that would mean sparing his friends the agony that the captors inflicted and also giving the team a chance to win, even without him.

Anybody could have piloted his Lion, probably. Allura seemed like an excellent candidate, and Lance knew that, were something deadly happen to him, she could take his place easily, allowing Voltron to move on.

He sighed; she was truly gifted, he had to admit. God, he would have given anything to be even half good as her. Despite how much he trained, despite how little time he wasted on mundane actions- he hadn’t looked in the mirror for a long time, there was no need for it. He could feel his skin drying and ageing as instants went by without his creams.

_Focus, Lance._

Looking around himself, he noticed that he’d been thrown in a cell of about 30ft squared- not the worst one he’d been into, fairly enough; the light was dim, coming from the corridor outside, that he could see through a peephole that barely allowed his hand through. Speaking of hands, they had tied those in front of him, and Lance was glad for that, because it was way better than being cuffed from behind, shoulders bound to ache terribly for the entire following quintant.

His feet were free to move, at least.

He got up slowly, and the room spun for an instant- they had knocked him out for good as soon as they’d captured him- and stretched, squatting and jumping on the spot to allow his muscles to relax a bit.

Once Lance was almost back to full efficiency, he started to think of how to get out of there; he’d been in worse situations, sometimes they’d left him in his undersuit, some other times they’d tied his whole body up like a salami, or they’d drugged him and tossed him in a ditch- thankfully he had a comm on him, because otherwise…

He shuddered.

None of that, now. He had to break free.

Peeping, he noticed that the corridors were free, not a bot in sight; Lance pressed his ear on the metal door, shivering at the contact, and listened attentively for someone to come, yet not a single breath could be heard.

_Not good._

That could only mean that he was either going to be left there to die alone, or that he had been dragged to an unknown place, probably a secret, illegal base, and that would make the rescue part a tiny bit more complicated than he had planned.

Lance exhaled shakily. His helmet was gone, but the armor was still on, at least. Thanking Pidge for the ad, he flicked his wrist, a glitchy hologram popping out of it. 

“This is Lance. I’m in trouble. Do you guys copy?” he hurried.

Static.

“Please, I need help now. Does anyone copy? Guys? Anybody?” he muttered, making sure that the corridor was still empty.

Static.

“I’m sending you my coordinates. Meet me there as soon as you can, I’m in trouble. Please,” he said, sending the distress signal off, “I don’t know where I am, but hopefully you guys will read the signal. Please, respond when you see this”.

Lance sighed, sliding down the wall again, back against it. He’d have to do without them, for now.

He had been captured about a varga ago, and he had eaten dinner three hours before they had been called into action, so that meant that he’d had his last meal and drink approximately four vargas ago; then, he had about six more vargas until he would start to feel lightheaded and sick. Hopefully, they’d find him sooner than that, maybe bringing a snack- Hunk always carried one for Pidge, who sometimes would feel dizzy due to anemia.

Maybe this time he would carry two and it would be Lance’s lucky day. Or night.

Lance needed to gather his strength, save it for an eventual escape. So he drifted off on the uncomfortable, freezing floor, hoping for his rescue to come.

-

Admittedly, he had never been woken up in a worse way than a kick to his guts.

Lance gasped when a metal boot connected to his stomach, making him gag for the pain. 

_What the-_

“Get up, brat!” a Galra guard snarled, yanking him from his air and forcing him upright, “you were hoping that we wouldn’t have noticed, huh?” 

“I-”

“Your friends will never find you, pathetic pile of shit!” he yelled, punching him square in the face, breaking his nose, “you really thought that we wouldn’t be able to intercept your little distress beacon?”

“What can I say,” he scoffed weakly, “A+ for the effort-”

“Shut up!” the Galra spoke, lifting Lance from the armor collar, “you think you’re all cool with your gadgets, huh? We shall see what you are without those” he smirked, throwing Lance on the floor roughly.

“Guards, do what you must” the soldier chuckled bitterly, sparing Lance one last look before leaving.

Three sturdy bots stepped in, and the heavy door shut behind them.

“Hi dudes, what’s up?” Lance asked, sweating, “look, I’m super glad to have company over, but I got a bit of a headache and a cracked rib so... Can we reschedule? For never, if it’s possible...”.

The bots stood, impassable. Their absent gaze sent a shiver down Lance’s spine, God how he hated them, and scanned him attentively.

Then, suddenly and making the boy jump, two started advancing toward him rapidly. They grabbed his cuffs, unlocking them and letting those fall down, and then held one arm each painfully high above Lance’s head. He struggled, feet skidding against the floor in vain, and wiggled to free himself.

It didn’t work one bit.

“Let me go!” he snarled because no, he didn’t want to get tortured today too. It had happened too much lately, he couldn't take it anymore.

When the third bot stepped forward, Lance’s eyes started to sting, tears escaping the lids slowly as he cursed under his breath.

_¡Mierda, puta madre!_

The bots rough hands set onto his chest, and then the realization sank in. 

_Oh no, no no no no. Please, no. Don’t. Please-!_

His chestpad got torn away easily, thrown onto the floor without a second thought. Then, the same thing happened to the arms and legs pads, to his backpad, the belt, his boots. Everything. 

Gone, torn to pieces.

Lance shivered, because despite being thermal, the suit didn’t provide much more comfort; he sobbed, silently. He hated when they did this to him.

He hated being treated like a Barbie-doll; he was not a toy to play dress-up with, for God’s sake!

Lance couldn’t know that it was not the end of it. He soon realized it, though, just when the bots’ grips tightened around his arms, and the third torturer’s metallic hand changed shape as if it was a pen knife.

“P-please, don’t-!” he gasped, but it was too late.

A wide, vertical cut had been made on the suit, ripping it open; Lance shuddered at the chilly air, goosebumps blistering his skin from head to toe as he cried. The bot changed back to the original form and proceeded to rip the suit off of Lance’s body, the tear sound of it making the boy cringe widely, his source of comfort gone.

“No, stop it, please-!” he screamed as the bot proceeded to undress him.

When a hand reached for his crotch area, Lance whimpered, head so light and lost, vision blurry because no, that couldn’t be happening.

Once his briefs had been taken away as well, he was left whimpering on the freezing floor of that dark, smelly cell.

His shaky hands covered his pudenda as he sobbed helplessly, eyes burning; his body shook violently, pressed in a corner as he wailed quietly, knees held close and tight, head buried in them.

No matter how much he curled up, the cold wouldn’t stop penetrating his bones, teeth rattling loudly as puffs of warm air left his mouth between gasps and sobs.

Slowly, he started to stroke his arms, muscles stiff, to provide some warmth and comfort.

“Do-don’t panic, Lance. Th-they’ll find y-” a devastating shiver wrecked through him, and it took the boy a few doboshes to recover, “they’ll f-find you and-and save you” he muttered, shaking.

-

Heavy eyelids threatened to fall shut, but Lance wouldn’t allow it.

He had to stay awake.

He had to fight the cold and the sense of defeat and despair that had taken over him in the past few vargas. Honestly, he had lost count after three.

Lance moaned in discomfort; his skin, especially the one on the back, ass and feet, was numb at this point, and his lips had started to turn blue. He wasn’t shaking anymore, and frankly he doubted that it was a good thing.

The paladin was getting exhausted, and that would be his doom.

How he wished he was on Varadero beach now…

Lance craved the warm sun kissing his tan skin, light bright and joyful, the sound of his family splashing and playing on the shore echoing in his head as he sipped his cocktail, sprawled on the towel as he sunbathed.

When it got too hot, he ran into the water to cool down, swimming to the bottom of the ocean and back elegantly, the fish near-by tickling him.

 _“Tío Lance! Play with us!”_ Nadia screamed, waving her tiny hand in the air.

Veronica smiled, _“Yeah, I can’t wait to kick your butt at beach-volley, hermano!”_ , and Rachel high-fived her loudly, holding the ball in her other hand.

 _“Don’t worry, mijo, we’ll show them,”_ his mamá chuckled as he went back to them, _“I’ll be on your team, and they will be doomed!”_

 _“I want to stay with mamá too, then!”_ Luis cut in, and Marco pushed him aside, _“No way dude, you’re all buff. Go help the ladies!”_

 _“What is that supposed to mean!?”_ Lisa- Luis’s wife- gasped, patting Sylvio’s head, _“you wanna stay with your mommy, right?”_

 _“Yeah!”_ the kid exclaimed, and Nadia chimed in, _“Me too, mommy, me too!”_

 _“These kids totally stole my wife!”_ Luis chuckled, and Marco shrugged, _“That’s your fault for being such a grown-up!”_ he laughed, and promptly got pushed in the water by his children.

Lance smiled softly, crossing his arms and his mamá looked at him, _“Mijo, are you alright? You’re so pale, Lance… And cold”._

 _But how?_ It was almost 38° outside, how could he be cold..?

 _“You need to stay awake, mi amor, or something bad will happen”_ the woman spoke softly, and everybody turned his way.

_What?_

_“Stay awake, Lance. Stay awake-”_

“You have to stay awake!” Keith yelled, gripping at Lance’s arms as he shook him, “snap out of it, look at me! You have to stay awake, okay? Lance!”.

Shiro was on the threshold, Galra hand glowing purple, “We have to leave immediately!” he commanded, and Keith cursed.

He picked Lance up, still lost in his cathatonic haze, and started to run.

-

When they got to the Black Lion, Shiro immediately jumped on the seat and took off, yelling at Black to increase the temperature.

Keith frantically wrapped the emergency blanket around Lance’s too still body; his nails were blue just like his lips, chapped and bleeding. The Red Paladin brought a hand to Lance’s wrists, witnessing the awful purple bruises but moving past them for the moment, and waited. 

“Fuck...” he breathed out in horror.

“What is it, Keith?”

“His pulse. It’s... It’s so weak...”

Shiro breathed out, “Keep him warm and talk to him, I’m going as fast as I can. Hang on!” he yelled, before starting to give instructions to the ones who’d stayed at the Castle.

-

They immediately put Lance in a pod, since he'd lost consciousness in the Black Lion, slumping senseless in Keith's trembling arms as he yelled for him to get a grip.

His vitals were unstable, breath itched and shallow, pulse barely there, skin going blue.

After a few, agonizing instants, the pod showed the results of the analysis, beginning the healing process without further ado.

They had made it in time.

Keith breathed out shakily, all but collapsing on the steps in front of the pod where Lance was sleeping, and Shiro too sobbed in relief, running a hand through his hair.

Pidge had excused themselves, followed by Coran, as the two went off to create a new, undestructible suit, warm and equipped with the best sonars out there.

Hunk left too, half-heartedly, to go make lunch for them all, and to prepare something light for Lance's stomach- he'd been starved for almost twenty hours, and they didn't want him to overeat and be sick.

Finally, the Princess offered to stay in the medbay, because clearly the two Japanese men were too overwhemled and distressed to help efficiently. She smiled, softly, and brought them blankets, preparing cots on which they could rest for a while. They had been looking for Lance for half a quintant, without ever stopping, frantically searching base by base, Pidge and Hunk guiding them from the Castle.

Keith fell into a light, disturbed slumber, the sight of a cathatonic Lance too upsetting to handle further, and Shiro had tried too, only managing to rest his eyes without actually falling asleep.

The Princess took watch, sitting next to the pod as she busied herself with matters concerning the Castle's defenses. She raised her eyes now and then to make sure that Lance was still breathing, because a few instants before they had put him into a pod, he had actually stopped inhaling air completely. 

But he was fine now.

He was alive.

In six vargas, just enough to heal his cracked ribs- he had been right about that- and stabilize his vitals, Lance would have stepped out of the pod and he would have been okay.

Physically speaking, that is.

Allura shuddered at the graphic image that Keith had described between one hiccup and another: Lance had been stripped down entirely and left in a cell to freeze for almost a whole quintant. He hadn't eater nor drank, and the air was almost suffocating and barely breathable- Shiro had added.

"I am so sorry, Lance," she murmured, looking up to the unconscious boy, "please, be okay...".

-

When Lance stumbled out of the pod, a couple of doboshes before he was due to, Allura shot forward to grab him. As soon as her hand made contact with his upper arm, however, he screamed, eyes wide and breath shallow again.

He crouched down, falling on his butt in a heap, hugging his legs tightly and rocking back and forth.

"Lance, it's me, Allura," she spoke softly, "you're okay, you're back at the Castle" she tried, but it didn't seem to be working.

Two pair of feet approached her, and Shiro and Keith kneeled beside the princess and in front of Lance, eyebrows knitted in concern.

"What's wrong with him? Why can't he breathe!?" Keith asked, eyeing Allura.

"The pod has done its work, look at the scans! I- I do not understand why he is struggling, I'm sorry..!"

Shiro tried to extend his hand and place it on Lance's knee, but when the boy flinched hard and whimpered louder than before, the man immediately retrieved it, "He's traumatized," he whispered in shock, gesturing for the others to get up and turn around with him.

They did.

"Look at his eyes, he's not even here with us," Shiro explained, nodding to the Cuban's glassy gaze, "they must have been rough with him...".

Keith sucked in a shaky breath, "Do you think they..?"

_Oh. No. No, they had-_

"No, the scans would have shown it" Allura reassured them, though their relief was short-lived.

Lance was still curled up in a ball on the floor, unresponsive and shaken to the core.

"We need to move him without touching him too much," Shiro tried, "I don't know how, but we have to. He may kick and punch, but we need to get him to a cot, no matter what. Okay?"

"I... Okay, we can try" Allura hesitated.

Keith simply nodded.

Shiro crouched down again, "Lance, buddy? It's Shiro. Look at my hand, you see it? I need to place one on your arm here, and Allura will do the same on the other side, okay? We will let you use your legs so that we will only touch you here" he explained.

Lance stared absentmindedly.

"Is it a good idea to let him walk?" Keith questioned, ready to catch Lance in case he slumped forward.

"I... I don't know," Shiro muttered, looking back at Lance, "come on now, up we go-"

"No, no no no no por favor. No me toques, ¡no me toques! Pl-please, don't touch me, os lo suplico"

"Shh, breathe deep with me, Lance. In and out, slow and steady... In.. Out..." Shiro guided, but Lance wouldn't hear it. His breathing was erratic again, not as dramatically as when they had found him, but equally dangerous, and Keith shifted behind him because, were Lance to faint in his position, he would slump backwards.

In fact, he did, after a yelp.

"Shit... Hey, Lance-" Keith muttered, ready to pat his cheek lightly, but Shiro stopped him.

"Let's get him to the cot before he realizes it, quick!" he said, and Allura picked the boy up, easing him onto a cot in a matter of tics.

"Should I get him an oxygen mask?" Allura asked, but Keith shook his head, "He's almost stable now, it won't be needed" he explained, removing the hand from the wrist.

"Still, we better pump nutrients and fluids in him" Shiro suggested, and the princess rapidly hooked Lance up to an I.V., its clear liquid pumped into the Cuban's veins.

"And now..?"

"Now we wait," Shiro sighed, "we wait, kill the bastards who did this and hope that Lance will be okay...".

So they waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my internet connection's been shitty in the past few days and it's starting to annoy me immensely.


	19. day nineteen: amputation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, body horror, vomiting, traumatic experience, klance.

“Pidge, we don’t have much time!” Keith barked as he and Lance guarded the Green Paladin’s back, “how long?”

“Two doboshes and a half, hang on..!”

“We literally can’t!” Lance cut in, voice high-pitched as he shot down another bot, more coming right behind the corner as their heavy steps echoed, “gather the essential info and let’s get the hell out of here, quick!”.

Keith grunted as he physically pushed a bot down, while another one strangled him from behind, “Lance’s right-” he choked out, flipping the bot on its back and stabbing it to the core, deactivating the machine.

The Blue Paladin kept shooting, eyeing behind his back furiously, “Enough of this, we need to leave!”

“No! We can’t go yet-”

“Keith, just grab them and go!”

“What! Keith, don’t do it-” Pidge tried, but it was too late as the Red Paladin lifted them easily off the ground, dragging them down the opposite corridor; Lance removed the pendrive and ran behind them, staying back to cover for them.

“Lance,” Keith called, “leave the bots. Let’s go!” he yelled as Pidge struggled in his arms while he ran.

And so Lance did.

“My Lion’s the closest, the others will follow!” Keith said as he huffed, Pidge running on their own now, Lance a few steps back.

“I can’t fucking believe you wasted everything we came here for!” the tech expert snarled, “it would have taken only two doboshes! It was almost done!”

“I got the pendrive, Pidge,” Lance explained, glancing back as he kept fleeing, “ it’s not all lost. And this mission really wasn’t worth risking our lives, so shut up and run!”.

Pidge gasped, “You can’t tell me to shut up! Who do you think you are!?”

“I am in charge of the operation, I can say what I want, especially if it’s the truth!”

“How dare you-”

“Listen, having someone die on my first thing as a leader didn’t seem nice, and we were too fucking close this time! We should have left even a dobosh earlier, if you ask me!” Lance explained, “I’m sorry for interrupting the mission, okay!? But it was the only way to get us out of here alive”

“It’s true,” Keith muttered, still running desperately toward his Lion, situated only a few doboshes away heading north-west, “those bots didn’t seem like the usual ones, they were stronger, and I didn’t recognize their blaster...”

“Oh yeah, cover for your boyfriend, I totally trust your judgement!”

“Pidge!” the two boys gasped simultaneously, “we don’t do that on the field and you know it!” Lance added, sincerely shocked and enraged.

Keith and Lance had worked so hard to separate the life on the field from the domestic mundanity they lived in at the Castle in their free time; they were all for cuddles, honestly, but they barely made eye-contact during a fight with the enemy. 

War brought death, and they knew it too well.

Getting distracted really wasn’t an option they had if they wanted to be together; so they had decided to be a thing only inside the Castle’s safe walls, when they didn’t have their armor on.

They were a symbol.

Voltron was a symbol.

They couldn’t afford ruining its reputation, and it wouldn’t have been fair to the other members of the team, who had worked just as hard to keep it together.

Lance scoffed, “We’ll discuss later, now we need to get to Red. Pidge, have you informed Green?”

“Yeah, she’ll leave as soon as we step in Keith’s Lion” they muttered.

“Same for Blue,” Lance replied, “Keith, E.T.A.?”

“About two doboshes,” the Japanese replied, flicking the hologram on his wrist close, “we’re close, keep it going!”

“Oh, so now ‘two doboshes’ is a short time? How convenient!”

“Pidge!” Keith reproached, “enough with this bullshit, we have other priorities that consist in not getting murdered in this forsaken base, so just focus on moving faster!” he yelled, picking up the pace.

Pidge growled but did the same, and Lance too.

“Red’s around the next corner!” the Red Paladin announced later on, though his relief was short lived. 

When the three paladins skidded to a halt, they found a horde of those bots standing in front of them, blasters just ready to fire.

“Shit… I knew we should’ve left earlier,” Lance muttered under his breath, shielding Pidge and handing them the pendrive, “take it, go”

“I’m not leaving you here-”

“I’ll stay” Keith cut in, but Lance shook his head. 

“No, you go too, and that’s an order” he said, eyes fixed on the bots before him, grip on his beyard tight, “I’ll join you as soon as I can, now I want you two to leave and take the info to the Castle”

“Lance-” Keith tried, but got shushed when his boyfriend gave him a soft look. Pidge couldn’t read through it, but the Red Paladin knew, oh he knew so well that Lance was utterly terrified.

But as he had said before, he was in charge of the mission, and a leader has to make tough decisions sometimes; now it was one of those times.

“Go, I’ll be fine” Lance spoke again, eyes shining as the bots stood there.

“You promise?” Keith muttered.

A tiny nod, “Go.”.

The Japanese’s heart clutched tightly as he patted Pidge’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly, “Hurry, he won’t be able to cover for us for long” he said, voice scruffier than usual.

“We can’t-”.

Their complaint was interrupted by a blaster- Lance’s- firing, and then all hell broke loose.

Keith and Pidge ran in the opposite direction, still heading for Red but taking the long road; they didn’t even have time to spare Lance one last look, as he got soon overwhelmed by angry bots, lasers cutting through the air with ominous hisses lost in Lance’s screams.

And Keith knew that sound, so he smiled tenderly as he ran.

The Blue Paladin wasn’t going to give up easily.

-

When Keith and Pidge got to the Red Lion, barley ten doboshes later and without further complications, the Japanese immediately ran to the seat, ready to take off. However, a tiny hand yanking his away from the dashboard stopped him. Keith turned around, eyes wide as he witnessed one of the rarest sights.

Pidge was crying, sobbing almost. Even behind the helmet, it was very clear that their reddened eyes were shining brightly as tears fell on their puffy cheeks and down their chin, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“Pidge, relax. He’ll be okay, but now we have to-” he tried.

“No. It’s- it’s my fault! He’s right, we should have left earlier. God, I was so stupid to think that this was a good idea!” they yelled, throwing the helmet on the ground, “we need to burst in there with Red and save him”

“He can handle this on his own,” Keith breathed out shakily, hands gripping the controls, “getting you and the info to the Castle now is my main priority-”

“Keith, for fuck’s sake, what is wrong with you!? Don’t you care about him!?”.

The Red Paladin shook, eyes firm, “I do. Very, very much. But Lance would be pissed if I abandoned the mission for him. Enough now, let’s go-”

“No! Stop it!” they screamed, grabbing Keith’s arms as he pushed for Red to take off, “we can’t- we can’t leave like this! What- what if he needs help, what if-”

“Pidge...”

“Maybe they took Blue and we don’t know it, maybe he won’t have a ride home-”

“Pidge, relax!” Keith yelled, eyes wide in worry and uncomfortableness, “look, I know. I know, okay!? Do you think that leaving the guy I love here to die is something I enjoy?”.

Pidge froze in shock, bewildered.

“I can’t put him before the mission. I want to, with every goddamn fibre of my being, but I can’t! We promised each other to focus on the task before feelings, and the task now is to take you and the info to the Castle, alright!?”.

He was panting now, sweat running down his face as Pidge’s tears before.

Keith swallowed loudly, slumping back in his seat, “I’m… I’m sorry I yelled. Let’s go...” he muttered, eyes low as Red came to life with a resounding roar.

The Green Paladin shook, as they made their way to the makeshift passenger seat, just before they sat down, however, an alarm blared, Red’s cockpit enlightened by a bright, crimson flash, siren noise coming through the speakers at full volume.

“What is it now?” Pidge asked, getting up.

“Someone’s trying to get on Red, I’m gonna check it out. Take the controls!” Keith yelled, shooting out of the seat and running to the Lion’s mouth.

The Japanese ran, knife tight in his hand.

As he got to the mouth, he froze dead on his tracks.

“...Lance?”.

The Cuban’s skin was ashen, sweat drenching the undersuit and dripping onto the floor, Lance’s helmet gone. His messy hair stuck to the forehead, and Keith couldn’t help noticing the red tinge on his partner’s cheeks.

“Hi Keith… A lil help..?” the Blue Paladin muttered, falling face forward before Keith could breathe.

“No, no!! Fuck!” Keith exclaimed, mouth agape and knees shaking. He rapidly picked Lance up, “Red, take off now!”.

And so the Lion did, immediately soaring in the sky, getting far far away from the base.

Keith was back in the cockpit in a matter of tics, an unconscious Lance held tightly in his strong yet slim arms unceremoniously eased on the floor.

“Lance!!” Pidge yelled, getting to their side in an instant. 

“Help me strip him down,” Keith commanded, removing Lance’s boots and armor plaques as fast as he could, “he’s burning up!”

“M-maybe he was sick before the mission?” the other questioned, working on the chestpad.

Keith shook his head, “No, he was perfectly fine, trust me. Shit, I hate this so much,” he muttered to Lance now, “why can’t you just stay out of trouble!?”

“J’lous..?” the Cuban muttered, eyes only slightly open, breath ragged as he coughed.

“Lance! My God, you’re awake!” Pidge exclaimed as tears pooled at the corner of honey eyes.

“‘Course I am, t’kes more than th’t to get rid o’ me...” he croaked out, wincing.

Keith began to unzip the undersuit to make his boyfriend more comfortable when, suddenly, he gasped, sliding back in horror.

“What is- oh. Oh. Fucking shit. Fuck!” the tech expert gasped, removing their hands from Lance’s form.

A pitch black liquid dripped from a tiny hole on Lance’s left wrist- the dominant one- and the substance seemed to have spread to his hand, entirely engulfed by it, up to his elbow. An inch more, to be fair.

“Lance- what- what is this..? ” Keith choked out, hands hovering in uncertainty, “fuck, baby, what…”.

He wanted to throw up.

Pidge did, stumbling in the cockpit’s corner and emptying their stomach.

“Th’ hit me w-with some needle and wh-when,” he coughed, “when I pulled ‘t out it… Hurt a lot...” Lance explained weakly, breath coming out in choked rasps, “‘s spreadin’ quickly”.

Pidge approached them again, wiping their mouth, “What do we do!?”.

Keith blinked rapidly, “Contact Coran, tell him to prepare a pod and-”

Lance screeched loudly, clutching at the injured arm; now, the darkness had reached the half of his upper arm, and thin threads of black started to reach for his neck.

“K-Keith...” he called, and the Japanese immediately ran a hand through his damp hair soothingly, cooing him.

“What is it, baby?”. He tried- he really did- to sound calm, but his voice was evidently strained, throat muscles tight for the devastating anxiety.

“Y’ve to cut it,” Lance coughed, and muttered “‘s the only w-way”.

_Cut it? Cut what? Oh. Oh, no. No!_

“Lance, I’m not-” Keith sobbed, a hand on his face, “I can’t-”

“Pl’se...” he whimpered, eyes fluttering in agony, “I beg you...”.

A hand on his shoulder startled him.

“Keith… He doesn’t have much time. We- we need to do it now” they whispered.

The Red Paladin swallowed again, trembling like a leaf about to get blown away by the cold winter wind.

_Okay._

"You… You hold his head the opposite way, I’ll-” he shuddered, hard.

Was he really going to do this?

He didn’t want to. God, he would have done anything else.

He would have gladly severed his own limb to spare Lance the agony.

His boyfriend, as if on cue, trembled on the floor, muscles spasming as he yelped.

“It h-hurts-” Lance hissed through gritted teeth as Pidge held his shoulders down, head pinned to face the opposite, healthy arm.

“Keith, come on...” Pidge cooed, a tinge of despair in their low voice.

The Japanese nodded.

“D-do you want me to explain step by step or..?”

“Jus’ do it… Please...” Lance slurred slowly, his ocean eyes now glassy. 

_Shit._

His fever must have spiked in the meantime, and that was not good.

Far, far from it.

Keith gulped, pinning Lance’s hand down as the boy thrashed- the pitch-black liquid burning in his veins.

The blade wasn’t even sterilized, what was he doing? This was going to kill Lance if he did it wrong.

But, again, what other option did he have?

The venom, or whatever it was that flowed in Lance’s veins, was killing him anyway.

Keith had a chance to save him.

So he took a deep breath, and let the blade sink just above the black veins; immediately, a spurt of blood sprayed on Keith’s face and on Red’s floor and ceiling. The brachial artery let the blood flow freely and in abundant quantities, so much that Lance lost several shades as soon as the first drops tickled down.

The pain registered in his dazed brain an instant late, as a guttural, blood-curdling scream was torn from his guts, slim, exhausted body thrashing under the other paladins’ hold.

He was screaming, crying, pleading for the torture to stop, for the pain to cease, for his mamá to get him out of there.

Lance’s feet kicked and curled up, whole torso shaking and wiggling uncontrollably as profanities left his lips, though nobody understood exactly what he was saying.

“Maldito Jesucristo, ¡haz que pare! P-por favor, duele como el demonio, ¡Keith! Mierda, puta madre, ¡haz que pare immediatamente!” he screamed, throat raw, lower lip bleeding as he bit on it to silence himself. Fat tears rolled down his face, neck strained as Pidge wouldn’t allow him to see the wound, not looking at it themselves, head turned away in utter fear.

Keith’s blade sank further, and blood poured copiously from the cut, nerves and muscles severed mercilessly. Then, he got to the bone.

_God._

He was about to sever a bone.

 _Lance’s_ bone.

A gag tickled the back of his throat as he held the vomit down; Keith got on his knees, adjusting his position. His blade laid horizontally in Lance’s spasming arm, and he breathed in sharply when he realized what he had to do in order to cut through.

“L-Lance,” he hiccupped, “I’m so sorry...”.

Pidge still didn’t look.

So, Keith put his hands flat on the blade and then wrapped his fingers around it to hold it down and upright.

“I’m sorry!!” he breathed out, tears streaming like a river out of his purple gaze.

And then he pushed down. He put his whole body weight and force in that movement, bone cracking loudly below his body, breaking into shards where the knife cut. 

Lance went ballistic, froth staining the corner of his open mouth, a sound that Keith wished to never, ever hear again coming out of them, choked and desperate.

“¡Basta basta basta basta basta basta!” he rambled, eyes almost out of their sockets, “por favor, por favor haz que pare, no puedo mas, n-no puedo-” he sobbed, head bobbing as he tried to squirm away from Pidge’s hold, their hand flat on his temple to hold him down, “¡Lo siento, papá, discúlpame! V-voy a ser un buen ch-chico, ¡discúlpame!”.

Keith cried, hard, while Pidge limited themselves to a barely audible whimper.

Finally, they all heard the blade hit the floor. 

And Lance blissfully passed out with a choked gasp, muscles going slack in a tic, fist of the right arm uncurling.

Keith rapidly ran to get the emergency blanket and wrapped it tightly around the stump, approximately four inches long, just after the shoulder.

Blood started to seep through, but Keith continued to press.

It was going to stop, eventually.

It had to.

After all of this, he couldn’t- Lance couldn’t.

“Y-you did it...” Pidge breathed out, eyes fixated on the severed limb, black and immobile.

They shakily got up to gather the discharged part of what once was Lance’s body and wrapped it in another blanket, setting it far from Keith and Lance’s sight. Pidge crouched down next to Keith, who was still putting pressure on the wound.

They didn’t have anything to cauterize it with, but according to Red they would have been at the Castle very, very soon.

Pidge sighed, removing their glasses and setting the eyewear aside; the tech expert caressed Keith’s shoulder, muscles tense.

His expression was unreadable.

He stared blankly at Lance, still (luckily) passed out, mouth pressed into a line, clearly biting his lip. His eyes were wide, pupils pinpoint and spent.

“Keith-” Pidge tried, but got shoved aside as the Red Paladin stumbled backwards and retched a few feet back, weakly clutching at his stomach.

Pidge winced, but didn’t leave Lance’s side. Their grip on the cloth around the stump tightened as they watched Keith sob and mutter between one heave and the other.

"You promised you were going to be fine..." Keith muttered, back still turned. He shook, "you promised..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone say "hurt/comfort"? Well, I say fuck comfort, only hurt today.  
> Why do I even tag "traumatic experience"? I make this boy go through some bad shit in every single chapter!  
> Admittedly, this is rather tough.  
> -  
> Please, be sure to check out my Klance Galtean Princes AU "the price of peace", please! I've been working hard on it, and I need further feedback. Pleeeeease!


	20. day twenty: phobia exploited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: claustrophobia, panic attack, vomiting, evil Kuron, klance.

Lance was claustrophobic.

There was no need to deny it or hide it, because it was a well-known fact to the whole team.

It happened after the airlock incident, barely a quintant after his near-death.

Coran had advanced the option that it could have been the pod’s fault when Lance had been trapped in there for almost a varga, but the teen denied it. He explained that during the incident, he was unconscious at least, unaware of the tight space he was caged in.

But the airlock… He was very much awake and aware of that; the robotic voice counting down the tics separating him from his certain death, the cold shiver running down his spine as the doors wouldn’t open, the swoosh of the gate as it began to suck him out into the cold, remote cosmos.

He also had a panic attack once, when Pidge absentmindedly asked the Cuban to retrieve a wire from the cabinet in the lab; long story short, the ten-thousand decaphoebs old furniture was not properly secured, and fell on the teen, trapping him as he struggled and cried for help, unheard. Nobody found him for half a varga, and when they did, Pidge frantically lifting the weight, with Hunk’s help of course, Lance had started to gasp and pant, wheezing helplessly as his skin went cold and pale, losing the usual tan. It took him several doboshes to calm down, and when his breathing evened out, Pidge still stroking his hair soothingly as the teen’s head laid in their lap, he started to sob, inconsolable.

That was the final confirmation of his debilitating phobia, and the team always made sure to be extremely considerate when it came to it. Lance had started being wary, carefully avoiding that part of the immense Castle, never wandering around on his own for fear that he could get trapped and left there for eternity. 

And it was going well so far.

Lance had never been assigned to cleaning duty in the medbay again after the incident, and the doors that were used daily had been implemented with a manual unlocking device for emergencies, were the power in the system to go out suddenly for any reason.

-

Lance was happy, extremely happy when they found Shiro again. Their leader, the caring father of the bunch, wise and kind, just and fun… That is how everybody remembered him, at least.

Yet, since his comeback, Shiro seemed different, more distant and significantly less patient. It was scary, but nobody dared to speak about it in his presence.

“ _I think it’s probably PTSD, and... Fairly enough, it’s understandable”_ Keith had dared to say once in order to justify the suddenly cold and detached, unaware of the leader lingering just around the corner. The man had burst in, screaming how it was them to be testing his calm.

After that, nobody went against Shiro’s word.

So when the leader told Lance to grab a mop and go clean the airlock, the boy lowered his head, shaking, and started to make his way out of the room.

“No, wait,” Keith said, “what are you doing? You know Lance can’t go there-”

“And why is that?”

“Because he’ll work himself into a panic attack just like last time. We agreed on this, remember? Just... Let me do it. Lance can, I don’t know, clean the kitchens or something” the young paladin proposed, eyeing his boyfriend and smiling warmly to reassure him.

Shiro’s expression remained impassable as he crossed his arms, “No. I want him to clean the airlock”

“Shiro-”

“That is final, Keith. Lance needs to face his fears, and I won’t tolerate any more complaints” he spoke firmly.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Lance muttered, already heading out, “see you guys later...”.

Turning around the corner, the Cuban gulped down, a hand grabbing his shirt tightly.

Shiro was absolutely right.

He couldn’t be scared, he was a defender of the universe.

“Lance,” someone- Keith- spoke, making him jump, “wait!”

The boy turned around, “Yes..?”

“Are you okay?” the Black Paladin asked, approaching his partner and laying a gloved, warm hand on his face.

A tiny nod.

“Don’t lie to me, please. You don’t need to”.

After a brief pause, Lance shook his head, movements almost imperceptible, “I just… He’s right, as always, but... He’s so mean, I… I don’t know, it’s upsetting” Lance murmured, lowering his head. Keith removed the hand, “now I have to go, he will be mad if I don’t clean th-” he shuddered, “the airlock quickly”.

“I’m coming with you”

“No!” the Cuban almost yelled, and covered his face immediately after, “I mean, you have stuff to do, I- I don’t want to be a burden, cariño”. He offered a weak smile, but Keith didn’t return it. Instead, he gently lifted Lance’s chin, delicate hands slowly raising the head.

“I’m coming with you, Lance. I don’t care if he gets mad, I refuse to leave you alone in there, alright?”.

A pause.

“Thank you, Keith” Lance whispered, eyes watery.

-

The damp mop flopped loudly on the floor, and Lance started to drag it around methodically. He was silent, eyes darting from one side of the room to another, pupils falling on the doors every other tic.

Keith, carrying a mop himself to speed up the work, looked at his boyfriend in concern, yet he did not speak a word either; he didn’t know if words would crowd Lance, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask him if talking would help either. Keith knew the Red Paladin too well, and knew that he would have started to question his value if anybody offered any unrequired help.

So he stayed quiet, cleaning the floor of the airlock carefully.

“K-Keith?”

“Yes, baby?” the boy replied, easing the mop against the wall and walking toward Lance.

“C-can I get out for a second?” Lance whispered, breath slightly itched. Keith immediately noticed the tiny pearls of sweat wetting the Cuban’s forehead, and that his shirt was damp under the armpits, and probably on the back too.

“Yes, yes, of course! Come on, let’s get some fresh air, huh?” Keith offered a hand, and Lance squeezed it in gratitude, barely lifting his eyes.

They were just a few steps away from the airlock gate, when the heavy metal door went down with a loud thud in the blink of an eye.

Lance’s breath stopped, and Keith tensed up as well.

“What the f-”

 _“Where are you two going?”_ Shiro’s stern voice questioned through the speakers, _“you have been cleaning for barely half a varga!”_

“We’re not done yet, but Lance needs a break. Open this door _now_ ” Keith snarled, furious.

_“No, I won’t. Finish first, and then you can go sit in a tree”_

“Shiro-!”

_“I said, finish cleaning the airlock first! Do not try me, Keith, or I will keep the door shut for a whole quintant”._

Lance wheezed, knees hitting the ground loudly as he curled up on himself.

Keith didn’t crouch down yet, too focused eyeing the speaker threateningly- there were no cameras, he knew it, but he felt like doing so would help, somehow- “Shiro, please, let us out immediately!” he sounded desperate, and he actually was, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but please, please let us out. I’m asking you ten doboshes, only ten. Come on!”

_“Finish first, then I’ll let you out. It’s a simple training to see how Lance would do were he to be locked up by the enemy. Stop being selfish and appreciate the effort I’m doing for this team”_

“Wait-”

 _“I will be back in a varga. You better have finished by then”_ he spat, and with that, the communication ended, the sound of a mic being put down signaling the fact that Shiro had really left.

Keith was astonished. Blood rushed to his ears, muffling every other sound around him; he tightened his fists, eyes wide in pure rage. 

How dare he.

How. Dare. He.

“Fuck, fuck! Son of a bitch, I’m gonna strangle that bastard with my bare hands!” he yelled, still looking at the speaker, “you hear me, Shiro? I’m going to kill you!” he threatened, veins on his neck popping out dangerously, “let us out immediately! Shiro!? Let us out now, I’m not fucking kidding, man!!”.

The speakers remained silent.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, huh!? I get that you are stressed and probably traumatised for life, but that doesn’t mean you get to play God with someone’s phobia, you goddamn idiot! Let us out now!!” Keith yelled, throat sore and voice hoarse.

After a few instants, the boy delivered a punch to the door, not with the intent to break it but solely to release some stress.

Slowly, the world around him started to come into his vision again, the red fading and leaving place to the airlock’s bright walls. Keith also became aware of the sound of someone puking , and he immediately cursed.

“Fuck, Lance, oh no...” he whispered, whirling around.

The Red Paladin was on all fours, hands flat on the freezing surface as he heaved and spasmed; Keith couldn’t quite see his eyes from where he stood, frozen in shock, but Lance was indubitably crying, loud sobs alternating the rhythm of his retching.

Shaken out of his stupor, Keith immediately ran to Lance, crouching down next to him. Knowingly, he removed the gloves with his teeth, tossing them aside, and slid a hand on the boy’s warm and wet forehead, just under the short bangs, while the other rested in between the shoulderblades. The shirt was damp in sweat, a faint stench of it emanating from it, but Keith didn’t care. Also, the vomit’s smell was way stronger.

Lance retched loudly, a resounding gag just before something else came out.

“Shh, Lance. Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay, I promise. Shh...” Keith tried, but the boy seemed unconsolable.

Lance panted and gasped, breath shallow. Red cheeks huffed and puffed, as tears graciously streamed down, leaving a trail as they wetted his face; fingers curled up on the floor, and Lance let his head hang heavily as he moaned after his stomach gave the umpteenth heave.

But it was empty now.

Bile mixed with saliva tickled down Lance’s chin as he crumpled on his side, Keith unable to hold him upright. He gasped, and immediately tried to get him to sit up, unsuccessfully.

Shallow breaths found their way out of Lance’s parted lips, chapped and whiter than normal, puffs of hair so loud that Lance couldn’t hear anything beside them, added to the skull-breaking shrill that echoed in his ears and head. Suddenly, the Black Paladin’s mouth was moving, and he tried his best to focus, eyeing the shaky, plump lips.

“-ce, Lance, hey! Breathe,” Keith commanded, putting himself in Lance’s visual field, “come on, love, you need to breathe for me, nice and deep”.

But Lance couldn’t. 

How could he?

There was no air to breathe there. Lance was suffocating, struggling to inhale the tiniest amount of oxygen; his lungs burned and spasmed.

“I promise that you will be okay,” Keith reassured, “it’s plenty of oxygen in here, I promise. But you need to work with me, okay baby?” he offered with a warm yet strained smile.

“I c-can’t-” he rasped, trembling hands grabbing at his damp hair and gripping it firmly, “I ca-n’t b-breathe” Lance hiccupped.  
Another gag rose to his throat, but he swallowed it down with a loud grunt.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, blue orbs watery as tears never ceased to drip from them, though they started to burn. Lips quivered in distress, now close and allowing even less air in.

“You want to try from your nose..?” Keith asked, sincerely confused.

But no, Lance wasn’t breathing through his nose, in fact, he was not breathing at all.

The Cuban’s chest seized, air trapped in his squeezed lung but unable to make its way out of there.

“No, no, hey! Lance!” Keith panicked, forcefully dragging Lance up and making him sit with the back against the wall, “look at me, look at me!!”. Lance’s eyes were glassy, pupils pinpoint and fixed to his lap.

“Fuck, Lance, don’t do this!” Keith grunted, yanking the boy’s knees up and putting a hand on his nape, pulling the head closer and making it loll between the knees, “come on now, breathe!”.

Lance barely rasped; his face was red as never before, sweat dripping down his whole face copiously. Shaky hands flew to grab at the hair once again, but Keith forbid that, grabbing the wrists gently and attempting to place his boyfriend’s hands on his chest.

After a few tries, he did.

“You feel this?” he asked as his chest rose and deflated steadily, “copy what I’m doing… In...” he inhaled, “and out...” he exhaled.

Keith shot a reassuring smile to Lance, who still seemed lost in his panic, “In… Out… In… Out… Come on, baby… In...” he continued.

Lance eventually started to imitate Keith’s movements, gulping air shakily, but at least he managed to get some oxygen in, unlike before. In a matter of ten doboshes, his breathing was almost back to normal, though interrupted by hiccups and shivers that wrecked his slim, exhausted boy, Keith’s hands on his shoulders to keep him in that position that was doing wonders.

He eventually slid on Lance’s side, and the boy let his head up and flopped it on Keith’s pointy shoulder.

Keith’s rhythmic and soft voice interrupted the sound of him panting loudly.

“Are you feeling okay now, Lance?”.

A tiny, tiny nod came as an answer, but Keith frowned.

“Can you use your words for me, baby? Please..?”.

Lance hiccupped again, “M’ good...”. His voice was barely a whisper, rasped and croaked out, the effort for saying those two words mind-wrecking for him.

“Alright, perfect. I’m very glad to hear that, love…” he smiled, sincerely relieved. 

“Listen, I’m sorry, this is all my fault. If I had told Shiro to fuck off immediately when he forced you to come here...” he lowered his eyes.

“‘S okay...”.

But it wasn’t.

“Lance-”

“Can I lie down..?” he asked, sounding extremely upset and defeated, a tone that Keith never wanted to hear again in his partner’s voice, too heart-wrecking, soul-ripping.

“Sure… Want me to lie down with you and… Cuddle, maybe?”

“No.” Lance shivered, “too crowded...” he added, mumbling.

“O-okay, yeah, right, sorry… You can put your head on my lap, then..?”.

And so Lance did.

Keith delicately threaded his ghostly fingers through Lance’s hair, which was drying out by now, and stared down with watery eyes, anger hidden in a pool of despair.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mh… Dizzy… ‘n tired” Lance replied, still speaking with a low, too low voice.

Keith hummed, “That’s understandable… I’m sorry I don’t even have some water to give you now… Is there anything else I can do..?”

“I want t’ get out” he blurted, barely audible, “now”.

Keith winced.

So the attack hadn’t died down completely yet.

“I know you do...”

“P’lse...”. Lance sounded desperate.

“Lance, I’m sorry… I… I can try to get someone’s attention, but nobody’s ever here...”

“Pl’se Keith, I n-need to!” Lance gasped, suddenly out of breath again. He shot up, almost headbutting Keith- who thankfully ducked in time- and he crouched down again, swallowing loudly.

“Lance, no, don’t get up yet. What’s wrong?” the Japanese fearfully asked, frantically crouching near his boyfriend.

A gag answered for him.

“Okay, okay. Fuck, huh. Come on,” Keith said, swatting him up and making him be on all fours again, “breathe through your nose, Lance. Come on, you can do it,” he instructed sternly. Being too soft didn’t seem to have worked before, and despite hating being rude to Lance, Keith knew that right now he had to.

Another gag. A thread of thin, clear saliva found its way down the Cuban’s chin, and tickled on the floor.

Keith cursed under his breath.

“I don’t think you have anything else to bring up, man,” he reasoned, “so you really need to suppress the gag if you can...”

“Can’t b-breathe” Lance struggled.

_God, no please. Not again…_

“Yes, you can. I’m here for you, baby. We have so much air to breathe, I promise...” he reassured, inhaling and exhaling to demonstrate, “try it, come on”.

“N-no-”

“In… Out...” Keith instructed, but Lance simply shook his head again, frantically.

A knocking sound on the door startled the two, and Lance yelped loudly, vomiting at last.

Keith’s head spinned around so fast that he almost gave himself a whiplash, but his eyes widened in joy and disbelief when they spotted Allura staring at him through the transparent part of the door.

“Allura!” he exclaimed, and Lance retched more.

Her muffled voice was the best sound that Keith had heard as she announced that she was about to force the airlock open manually.

A tic later, it was done.

The doors slid open in a few tics, and Allura bolted in, gasping at the sight.

“What is going on?” she questioned, a hand on her mouth.

Keith waver her off, “I’ll explain later, help me get him to the infirmary-”

“NO! P-pl’se, no, no, no, no…” Lance begged, repeating ‘no’ as a mantra, pleading desperately as he curled up further.

Allura nodded, voice steady and calm, “To your room, then?”

“Yes, please” Keith smiled, extremely grateful.

-

Keith lowered Lance down in the bathtub, filled with warm, soapy water; he turned Lance’s relaxing playlist on the speakers of the room, loud enough for the shaken boy to hear from the bathroom. Keith put himself on the threshold, shooting Lance a look to see if he was still awake and if his head was still out of the water- though the water was purposely too shallow to be dangerous.

He looked at Allura, who stood in front of him.

“Shiro locked us in,” he explained, voice low, “despite Lance’s phobia, he locked us in there for almost a whole varga”.

The princess gaped in horror, “Why would he do that!?”

Keith shrugged, “Since he came back, he’s… I don’t know…”

“A dick, as Lance would say, though I do not understand the connection” Allura cut in, whispering the last part. Keith huffed out a laugh. 

“Yeah, you’re right” he muttered, expression going grim again, “I’m going to kill him”

“Refrain from committing murder, please” Allura smiled, “but I understand where you’re coming from. I agree, and I will talk to Shiro about this unforgivable attitude of his”

“It’s not necessary, I can handle this-”

“Keith,” the Blue Paladin interrupted, placing a warm hand on the Japanese’s shoulder, “right now, Lance needs your attention more. Do not waste your energy with Shiro, please. Focus on him first,” she said, nodding to Lance, and Keith did the same, “I will make sure that incidents like this will never happen again, I swear on Alfor’s name”.

Keith smiled, a tear escaping his eyes, “Thank you, Princess...”.

She shrugged, grinning, “So...” her expression sobered up, “how is he?” she asked, cerulean eyes filled with worry.

“Messed up, to make it quick. He threw up a lot- oh, shit I didn’t even give him water!” Keith gasped, immediately filling a glass and holding it up Lance’s lips as he sipped slowly.

“I shall leave you two alone,” Allura spoke, approaching the boy and giving him a quick kiss on the forehead before looking at Keith again, “take care of him, please”.

“I will… Thank you for everything, Allura” he smiled after setting the glass down, and she left quietly.

-

When the deck’s door slid open in front of Allura, Shiro checking the latest intel and turned around, she made her way toward the man, fist tight.

He was going to pay for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: when the "not my Shiro" theory began to circulate amongst fans, I did not believe it. I was like, "y'all reading too much between the lines, it's not like there can be more than one Shiro... He's just mentally fucked up". BBBBOI, I was *wrong*.  
> -  
> I stan Allura. You go, girl!


	21. day twenty-one: whipped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: whipping, blood, open finale.

Lance woke up to the sound of cheering and clapping, too loud for an early Monday morning.

He grunted: had he left the TV on? Maybe that was where the sound was coming from. He really didn’t remember much of the night before, and he was far too sleepy to try and think about it.

Cheering and clapping continued.

_So annoying…_

Blue orbs shifted under the closed, heavy eyelids as he licked his lips, thirsty. He’d probably forgotten to put the chapstick on before going to bed.

Still… Something didn’t seem right.

Lance usually slept with an arm on his belly as the other laid stretched up beyond the head, and sometimes he woke up with a tingling sensation in the latter. But now that he thought about it, both of his slim arms ached terribly, shoulders feeling just about to pop out of their sockets.

Lance winced. That was _not_ something he wanted to experience ever again in his life.

Also, his legs ached, and though he couldn’t exactly feel them, still too groggy, he had the impression that they were upright yet bent, somehow, as if he were-

He stilled.

_No. No, absolutely not. No._

Much more awake in a matter of two tics, the paladin’s mind raced, trying to remember the recent events as much as he could.

They’d been sent on a mission, did what they had to do, exchanged chitty-chat with the freed prisoners, and then… And then what? He didn’t really remember. 

Trembling, Lance pried an eye open only to shut it close upon witnessing what he had before.

_Nope. ‘s a dream, you’re juuust dreaming, Lance. Come on, wake up. ¡Despierta, Lance!_

He opened an eye again, blue iris adjusting to the light.

Lance was greeted by what resembled a rather wide, unpaved arena, him at the center of it; on the bleachers, caped figures sat and clapped, shouting in their native tongue that he couldn’t minimally understand. Yet… They looked like the same species as the prisoners, which was not only suspicious, but immediately dawning: it was a trap.

_Voltron has been set up._

His head whipped as much as he could make it, but his teammates didn’t seem to be there.

On one hand, it was good because it meant that they had only got him, but on the other it meant that the others were either trapped elsewhere or _worse_.

Raising his head, neck aching annoyingly, Lance noticed that his arms were held up his head, forming a forty-five degree angle with his torso; the rusty chains around the wrists bruised, and he could see tiny drops of blood making their way down the length of his arms.

The structure to which he was bound was like a sturdy wooden frame, meaning that his whole body was completely exposed to the enemy.

When Lance noticed that his nipples were uncharacteristically turgid- and no, he was far too scared to death to be horny- he lowered the gaze, witnessing that he’d been left only in his briefs, chilly wind hitting him and making him shiver and grunt.

Two caped figures approached him slowly, the only visible thing being their pointy, pickle-green chins.

“Where the fuck did you hide my teammates!?” he yelled, trying to sound intimidating and failing as his voice trembled.

They remained silent.

“What, are you idiots hard of hearing? _Where_ are my teammates!?” he snarled, furious.

Once the two were standing about five feet away from him, the shortest one removed a thick book from under the robe, while the other approached Lance further.

Lance did not like where this was going; sweat dripped down his forehead in buckets and he swallowed, eyeing the closest alien, “Hey, you! Answer me, damn it. What the hell do you want? And where are my teammates!?”.

The alien eyed him, but kept quiet.

The crowd still cheered, but the chatter eventually died down- rapidly- as the furthest figure opened the book and started to read.

Lance did not understand a single word.

What the _fuck_ was happening? 

He was so confused. And scared. Not only for himself, that is, but for his _family_ too.

What if they were already- oh God, no, they couldn’t be-

Fingers wrapping around his face snapped him out of his trance as he gasped and struggled, useless against the restraints.

Now, the alien that was the closest to his had his face in its hands, four fingers squeezing Lance’s cheeks painfully as the inner part of his mouth was forcefully pressed against his teeth. The alien spoke as Lance stared in its eyes, now visible from under the black cape.

Again, he didn’t really understand anything.

“L’e m’ go!” he screamed, thrashing against the tight hold, that only became stronger at his strife, “sto’ f’kin’ w’th me!”.

 _Of course_ , the alien didn’t let go.

Looking around, Lance noticed that everybody’s eyes were glued on him.

_¿Qué coño quieren?_

And that’s when it clicked.

“Paladin!” the figure spoke, and proceeded to talk in the unknown idiom, to which Lance sighed.

Were they too dumb to understand that the poor guy they had captured, stripped down and tied up did not get a single thing they were saying to him?

As the figure continued to speak, Lance concluded that _yes, they’re stupid._

The torturer finally let go of his face, and the Cuban scrunched and unclenched his aching jaw, finger marks printed on his reddened cheeks. His relief was short-lived when the alien extended the opposite arm and dug a hand into the cape’s sleeve, fiddling with its content.

So _that_ was what they were going to do with him. 

Torture.

His stomach churned in anticipation when the alien finally extracted a long, thick whip. 

Lance shuddered and gulped, scrambling to his feet as his knees gave out, too used to be bent and weightless after so many vargas.

_No. Por favor, no._

The alien with the book started speaking again: its voice seemed solemn, deep and calm as it read through, and the slim finger ran down the paragraphs steadily.

The closest alien circled around Lance, and despite his burning shoulder muscles he still managed to look at his back, where the alien now stood.

“No, p-please, don’t. I- I have a big wound back there, it’s- it’s not completely healed yet, please...” he begged.

Because his back was still covered in a wide, pale scar: it went from his shoulders to his lower back, and it was the most delicate part in his whole being. After the explosion, despite the best efforts of the pods, the wound had never fully healed, as the machine's goal was to keep the patient alive and patch them up, not to give them a beauty makeover.

And Lance… He’d always been quite touchy about that subject. Whenever anybody mentioned that day, or his scar, or if he needed painkillers because _yes,_ it still ached incredibly from time to time, Lance would usually shrug and change the subject, anxiety and flashbacks clouding his mind.

If someone were to injure him further in that area he would certainly bleed out. Normally, he wouldn’t have been so scared, but now he was alone, his friends were maybe gone forever, and he didn’t even understand why these creatures were doing this. Literally, he did not understand anything.

The crowd went quiet, and that’s when he was brought back to the present.

Whipping, right.

He couldn’t take it. Why denying it at this point? He really couldn’t take it. Physically, and emotionally, he was scarred for life.

He didn’t even realize as the whip descended on his back at first.

Lance only knew that one second he was thinking, and that- barely a tic later- the air behind him was torn with a loud _crack_ , and the thick, heavy leather strip made contact with his skin.

It was _fire_.

An animalistic, guttural scream made its way up his throat, saliva spewing from his mouth as he arched backward, head thrown back to the point that his sternum felt almost elongated, though it was impossible.

Lance’s head spun as the whip descended again, _and again and again and again and again and again and-_

The cheering got louder, deafening as his yells and pleas got lost under shrilling shouts and stamp of applause.

Tears were now streaming down his face in copious quantity, snot staining his lips and dripping down the chin and onto the sand. Lance tried to get back on his feet, to run, to kick and free himself, but he only had a tic or two before the next whiplash would sink into his skin.

He could feel the blood trickling down his back and legs, staining his blue briefs, pooling under his feet as they tried to sustain his weight.

The first alien kept reading from his book, the crowd kept cheering, the torturer kept whipping.

His fists were tight, so tight that the palms had started to bleed as short nails dug further, ripping the skin off, Lance’s faint attempt to ground himself. His throat felt sore, raw and bloody as he felt copped in his mouth, but whip after whip he growled loudly, whimpering and screaming.

Lance was now drenched in sweat and blood, the dust lifted from the whip as it touched the ground after hitting his skin filled Lance’s dry mouth as he coughed and panted, breathless and gulping like a fish out of water.

The dirty whip hit him again, for what seemed like the hundredth time, and he cried and screeched, writhing in utter agony.

The spectators seemed to enjoy the show, but the torturer and the one that was reading what Lance hoped was a prayer, at this point, didn’t seem to be taking any particular joy in that gruesome event.

It was just work for them, apparently.

And the alien whipped and whipped and whipped again, and Lance kicked and yelled, in vain.

Suddenly, it all stopped.

_‘S it over..?_

The loud, deafening crack of the whip answered his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These aliens are genderless because I figured that not all alien species (like the ones I've written about so far) necessarily have a gender... Also in my head they resemble lizards without scales, for those who care. These aliens also all lay eggs.  
> -  
> Gonna wrap this up quickly as I need to write fluffy things in these tiring times, so give me until March 24 and I'll be done. Sorry for the delay, as usual.


	22. day twenty-two: deafened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: deafened Lance, klance.

It was far too late when Lance’s eyes set on the mine located only three meters away or so; the light on it was beeping, red and angry as the rhythm quickened. Lance gasped, and he only had two tics to scramble as far as he could. Then the bomb exploded, and it was light-out.

-

When the pod spit him out, only a couple of vargas later, Lance let himself fall, sure that someone would catch him.

Thankfully, he wasn’t wrong.

He brought a hand up to his face, expression scrunched up in grogginess and faint paint. When the world seemed less likely to tip, Lance opened his eyes slowly, gingerly, and blinked the fog in his head away; he offered a delicate, grateful smile as Allura wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and Keith took his hands, gaze worried.

He chuckled, “Thanks for-”.

_What?_

“Uhm, that’s weird...” he muttered confused. He had said that out loud, right? He hadn’t just thought that. He had spoken, felt the air brushing his vocal cords, lips moving. _Right?_

But… But he couldn’t hear himself.

“Guys? What- I can’t- okay, what the fuck!” he yelled, and Keith all but broke in a desperate cry- not that Lance could hear it, anyway- and squeezed him tight.

Lance could feel his boyfriend’s breathing in the crook of his neck, he could feel his heart hammering as he sobbed and hiccupped, trembling like a leaf.

But Lance couldn’t hear him.

He couldn’t hear anything. 

“Wh-what’s happening? What- what’s wrong with me!?” he cried, or whispered, he didn’t know. Tears streamed down his face, shock and confusion sending him to the floor, knees hitting the cold tiles hard. He didn’t even wince.

_No. No no no._

He wasn’t- he couldn’t be- just _no!_

Keith made eye contact again, purple orbs shining, and all of the others crouched down their level as they eyed him worriedly, eyes watery and mouths quivering because _they knew_.

The Red Paladin’s chapped lips moved, but no sound came out of them. Not even a whisper, a breath. He spoke, but Lance just couldn’t hear him. Their hands, tied together, tightened.

The Blue Paladin trembled, shaking his head and muttering words that he couldn’t even hear.

_Impossible. That's impossible. It’s gonna come back. It’s gonna come back!_

The more he did that, the more Keith cried. Pidge had to look away at one point, removing their glasses to dry their tears as Hunk hugged them, gaze low.

Shiro patted Keith’s back soothingly as he still held onto Lance, who seemed cathatonic, his gaze lost, pupils shrunk and immobile.

Slowly, Coran pried Keith away for an instant with Shiro's help, and Allura guided Lance toward the gurney. He walked, the Princess’s steadying and warm hand on his back, and sat down, calmly. 

It felt like a nightmare. Why hadn’t he heard the creaking of shoes as they paced, or the squeaking of the gurey as he laid on it? _Why?_

Because he hadn't been fast enough.

He hadn’t made it in time.

He had been too slow, too late, and now he was going to pay for that.

He deserved it. Lance deserved it.

The Paladin’s mind was glued on those three words: “I”. “Deserve”. “It”.

_Serves me right, for being useless._

His head lolled as he sat on the gurney in the medbay, ocean eyes staring at his folded hands that laid on his lap. He didn’t know how long he’d been there for, but almost everybody had left- they explained why, but he didn’t understand. He didn’t know if anyone was still there in the medbay, he didn’t want to raise his eyes.

Sensorineural hearing loss, Coran had told him. He didn't really understand what the man meant.

The only thing Lance had understood was that the Altean man had declared it permanent.

Lance sighed loudly, _supposedly,_ as his mind raced: he was never going to go on a mission again. They were probably going to make him step aside. Find a new Blue Paladin, probably.

What use could he have now? What good could he bring to the team, to the universe?

He felt useless. Utterly, completely useless.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him, as he gasped and raised his gaze to meet Coran’s azure, gentle eyes.

The man’s mouth moved under his moustache, and Lance tried- he really did- to understand everything, but only got bits and pieces. The annoying, constant shrill in his ears, or in his skull, or whenever the damage was located, made it hard for him to focus on the Altean’s lips.

_Deaf._

He had gone deaf.

Because of a _stupid_ bomb… His hearing was gone. 

Keith sat next to him, and waved Coran away, gently. In his other gloved hand, he held a tablet, and he handed it over to Lance. 

“What am I supposed to do with this..?” he asked, eyeing his boyfriend not in annoyance, but in a tone that Keith wished to never hear from Lance. 

Defeat didn’t suit him. It didn’t suit his Lance, jovial and caring, hard-working and unique.

“This is how we will communicate for now...” Keith spoke, slightly slower than normal to let Lance read his lips.

The Cuban averted his gaze, handing the device back to his boyfriend, “I don’t need this”.

A warm, familiar hand gently took the tablet from his hands, and Keith started typing; Lance didn’t even look at him.

He didn't have the courage to.

The Japanese boy elbowed him, and passed the tablet.

It read _“we will always be here for you, Lance. Talk to us. Talk to me”_

“Thank you” he muttered in reply, not too enthusiastically.

_“I’m sorry I didn’t get you in time. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”_

“Don’t blame yourself, Keith…” his gaze was still low, “it’s my fault. I chose to go down there, I was the one who didn’t see the bomb. It’s not your fault…”

 _“It is. I was reckless to let you go alone”_ Keith hiccupped as he slid the tablet back to Lance, unheard and unseen.

The Cuban sighed, looking in the opposite direction, “Don’t start this now, please. I… I can’t take it. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I’m… I’m an idiot. I’m a stupid, useless idiot, and now I’m done for. It’s fine”. His shoulders trembled as he sobbed, hands flying up to cover the shame, “it’s f-fine...”.

As soon as Keith’s hand made contact with his shoulder, Lance’s head whipped around, eyes and nostril wide in anger, fear, despair. Why wouldn’t Keith understand that he needed to be left alone now? Why couldn't Keith understand that Lance was an idiot, that he had made a huge mistake by falling in love with him? Why-

The sight stopped Lance’s stream of consciousness on its tracks: his beloved was crying.

Keith was sobbing like a child, fat tears rolling down his red cheeks, hair messy as he grabbed it and lowered his face, curling up as he sat on the gurney.

“No, no no no, K-Keith, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” Lance spoke frantically, gently yanking his boyfriend’s wrists away as he clawed and tore his hair, “p-please, look at me, Keith, I- I need to see your eyes now” he begged, voice watery and thin.

Amethyst orbs rose to meet Lance’s ocean ones, heavy with tears.

“I’m sorry, I- I was rude, I- God, Keith, pl-please don’t cry, I’m so, so sorry, I’m a real jerk. I love you so much, mi amor, don’t be sad!” Lance yelled, and his boyfriend actually winced at the volume a bit, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabbed Lance’s nape, delicately cradling the chocolate hair, and brought the head forward, melting into a soft, delicate kiss.

Pulling away a whole dobosh later, the two were both left panting.

“I will never leave your side, Lance!” Keith spoke, and his boyfriend nodded, still crying, “we will get through this. We,” he emphasized, “will get through this...”.

“I’m just… scared. Scared because I will never hear _anything_ again. I… I will never Shiro’s amused scolds and Allura’s made-up Earth slang, and I w-will never hear Hunk and Pidge’s gibberish and chuckles, and- and Coran’s bizarre words, and Kalternecker’s mooing and th-the mice squeaking-” he sobbed, helplessly, finally letting all out, “I will never hear music to da-dance to, or Spanish, and- and what if I forget it?”

“Lance...”

“I will never hear rain falling on the wooden roof of my childhood’s bedroom, and- and I will never hear the w-waves as th-they come crashing down on the shore! I will n-never hear children laughing, I will never hear the e-emotion in someone’s voice, and… And I- I will never hear you!! Y-your beautiful, croaky voice, taut but- but so, so reassuring in a way… I will never hear what you tell me when you b-breathe in my ear, I will never hear you snicker when we’re in bed, unable to fall asleep as everything amuses us. I… I will never hear anything again...” Lance bawled, now held in Keith’s tight, engulfing grip.

And he was right. Keith knew he was.

But… But they were going to get through this. Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sensorineural hearing loss (SNHL) is a type of hearing loss in which the root cause lies in the inner ear or sensory organ (cochlea and associated structures) or the vestibulocochlear nerve (cranial nerve VIII). SNHL accounts for about 90% of reported hearing loss. SNHL is not necessarily permanent and can be mild, moderate, severe, profound, or total. (From wikipedia).  
> -  
> Started making this, had a breakdown. Bon appétit.  
> No joke, this is badly written because I was too devastated at the idea of Lance never hearing Keith again.  
> I may come and fix this up a bit later on, when I'm more mentally stable.


	23. day twenty-three: forced to hurt others + stabbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, mentions of child abuse, open finale.

Hopefully, team Voltron would learn the lesson after this: never send only two paladins on a mission.

Lance had volunteered to watch Pidge’s back as they believed that possibly vital info was being kept inside a remote base’s archives; surely enough, it would have been better to send someone else as well, but the paladins’ aid had been required elsewhere, so the Blue and the Green Paladin would have had to deal with that on their own.

The first phase of the mission had gone by fairly smoothly, but something- they didn’t exactly know what- went wrong, maybe a silent alarm triggered by their presence or a camera that Lance had missed while getting rid of the others… And they had been taken. In the blink of an eye, they had been surrounded and tasered, the next few doboshes an indistinct blur.

Next thing they knew, they’d been stripped down to their underwear and thrown in a cold room, puffs of warm air escaping from their lips as they exhaled.

_Not a good start..._

-

The Galra General’s grip tightened on Pidge’s tawny hair as they struggled, Lance held a few feet away by two other sentries, superhuman strength making it impossible to escape their iron hold.

“How ‘bout we play a little game, huh?” the Galra woman who was holding Pidge sneered, “I will let one of you go, while the other will die right here. But,” she paused, scratching her chin and then clicking her fingers, “I want to spice things up a bit, so I shall let you decide who will make it out alive...”

“You fucking bitch- aaagh!!” Lance got muted as the sentry let its metal claw sink in Lance’s skin, his bare arm bleeding.

“Is this how you reward my kindness? Rude...” the Galra general sighed dramatically, obviously unbothered by Lance’s attack as she played with Pidge’s hair, snickering. She then let Pidge sink to the floor with a loud thud as they grunted, trying to prop themselves up.

“You know what, Blue Paladin?” she asked, pacing toward him and taking his face in her furry, strong hand as she squeezed his cheeks, “you seem more likely to survive than that broken twig over there, so making _you_ kill that pathetic excuse for a warrior would be way funnier!”

“What do you-”.

The Galra’s cold smile stopped him from asking further questions, blood stopping in his veins. She let Lance go, and left briefly, purposely stepping on Pidge’s wrist on her way out and letting the Green Paladin writhe in agony, rolling onto the cell’s freezing floor.

Cold silence filled the room, the echo of the torturer’s boots tapping in the corridor seeming like the only way to track time in that dark, forgotten jail cell.

“Lance..?”

“P-Pidge, no matter what, I won’t-”

“Silence.” the bot commanded, gripping and digging Lance’s arm further as more crimson liquid poured from the wounds; he let his head sag, wincing in agony but wanting to spare Pidge the sight of him crying. Salty tears fell from his eyes and down his nose as he exhaled shakily, the sentry’s metal claws still in his skin, pressing and twisting as he shuddered.

Why couldn't he protect them? They’d trusted him, he was supposed to have their back, to make sure that Pidge was safe. 

That was the only thing he had to do. And Lance had failed. He had royally screwed up.

The dreaded woman came back a few doboshes later, heard from a distance as the boots resonated on the metal floor. She entered the cell with her chin held high, a malefic sneer on her muzzle as she approached Lance. After she spared him an amused gaze, she raised those yellow orbs, “You two, leave.” she commanded, and the bots were gone.

The General then crouched down on Lance’s level as he curled up on the floor, pressing his dirty and sweaty palms on his bleeding upper arms to soothe the pain and to provide some warmth and comfort. She was confident that neither of the two prisoners would attack in such a miserable state.

She was right.

“I have something for you,” he smiled, and Lance raised his gaze, filled with hatred and fear and agony, “you see this dagger? I want you to plant it in your friend’s guts. I want you to twist and push it down, alright?” she hummed, showing the dagger to the Blue Paladin, “when I hear that one of you is gone, I will let the other go. You see…” she whispered in Lance’s ears, making his neck hair stand up.

As she spoke, Lance’s eyes widened, and he gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath.

_No. no, it can’t- no…_

She pulled away, satisfied. The General tossed the dagger on the floor, “Have fun, meatbags” she waved, and closed the heavy door behind her.

Pidge scrambled to their feet, and flopped in front of Lance, “Your arms… We have to wrap them or the wounds will get infected”

“‘S okay, we have bigger problems” he smiled, attempting to relieve the tension in the air, “Pidge, just… Stab me. I can take it. You can come and get me afterwards, but you need to make sure that you can escape safely and unharmed first”

“I will not stab you, you idiot!!”

“I will not stab you either, you know? But we can’t just sit here and say that we won’t stab each other. I know you don’t want to, but you have to”

“Lance-”

“Pidge, no, listen to me now,” he said, putting his bloodied palms on the shorter paladin’s cold hands, “this mission is more important than both of us. You need to flee, get the others and retrieve the intel. As much as I hate to say this, you need to think of the mission first, and not about yourself or about me. We don’t matter now, the mission does”

“Lance… I… I’m sorry” they gaped, lowering their honey gaze.

“About what?”

“I know you’re right but… But I can’t-”

“I know. I know I’m asking you a lot, I know. I’m so sorry, Pidge,” he muttered, grabbing them and holding them tight and reassuringly, “but we don’t have a choice. I don’t want to be stabbed either, but… But it has to be done. I survived an explosion, I can take a knife…” he said, pulling away as his ocean eyes shone, “can you do this for me? Please?”

“I....” Pidge exhaled, raising theri gaze and offering a quick smile.

Lance closed his eyes as he sighed in utter relief, but it was short-lived as he felt Pidge’s weight crushing down on him, the knife held close to the throat as they snarled. He hit the floor back-first, panting.

“P-Pidge!?”.

They smiled, knife still pressed against the Cuban’s throat- though he soon realized that it was positioned in a way that wouldn’t cause any real harm.

“Shut up and trust me, Lance...” Pidge muttered, raising their voice after taking a deep breath, “you son of a bitch!! You want to leave me here to die!?”

“What are you-”

“She’ll open the door if she thinks that the fight is over, and then we can attack her-” Pidge explained, forcing Lance up and slamming him against the wall face-first, arm held behind his painfully and the knife’s tip almost pierced his back, “pray for your life, you little shit!!”

“Pidge,” he breathed out, face scrunched against the wall, “it won’t work...”

“Believe me, I will not be able to contain my joy when I finally get rid of you!” they screamed, glancing at the door to see if it would open.

It didn’t, yet.

“Please, stop this-” Lance muttered, resigned, but Pidge wouldn't hear him.

“Fight, idiot! You givin’ up already? Pathetic!” they snarled, and Lance actually winced at the tone and the harsh words, overwhelmed, “the General was wrong, _you_ are the twig here”

“Pidge, please..!”

“Lance,” they whispered, “make this believable. Fight back, do something”

“I- I can’t”

“Just push me, or slap me, come on!”

“Pidge, no, s-stop, I-” he sobbed, tears streaming down his pale face. He really couldn’t hurt Pidge, he could never hurt his friends. Never. He hated fighting in the first place, and when he was a kid he’d let his father do whatever he wanted despite the fact that, if he wanted to, he could have fought back, because he hated it.

He hated beatings. 

He hated bickerings.

“Why are you crying!?” Pidge asked, yelling, shocked, scared and mad, “Lance, come on! I’m doing my part, do yours!”

“W-we can’t win…” he hiccupped, and Pidge all but turned him around and slammed his back against the fall, knife up to his gulping throat again, the cold blade uncomfortably close to Lance’s Adam’s apple, “p-please, just cut this out and do it”

“No!! We are getting out of this _together_ ” Pidge whispered angrily, eyes bloodshot and wide, unwillingly pressing the knife further and actually drawing a thin red line.

“Pidge-”

“Shut up!” they yelled, pushing him back against the wall even further and eyeing him worriedly, “Lance… Please. What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so strange?”

“I can’t, Pidge, I r-really can’t-”.

_I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t._

“You can. You can and you will. Just a punch. A push. Something. Please-”

“I said I can’t!!” Lance yelled, pushing the Green Paladin back as they stumbled.

The scholar’s eyes widened in disbelief and joy, that is, before Lance attempted to snatch the knife from their hands forcefully, sending them both on the floor.

Blood from his arms smeared on their faces and bodies as they brawled, rolling on the floor as Lance forcefully tried to pry the weapon from his friend’s hand, “Give me this fucking knife, Pidge! I’ll do it myself!”

“No! Fuck, Lance, don’t be stupid!!”

“Just- give me the knife” Lance snarled through gritted teeth, physically sovrasting Pidge now. He put one hand on their face as he pressed it against the floor, not to cause any harm but to prevent them from being agile enough to keep the knife; with his free hand, he finally got hold of the blade and rapidly shot up, stumbling back.

Pidge sputtered and raised to their feet too, “Lance, wait!” they called, not daring to move for fear that Lance would do something dangerous, “why are you being so reluctant to do this my way?”

“Because it won’t work. This isn’t a movie, Pidge, and I will not let you waste your chance of getting away” he panted, tightening the hold on the knife, “just run and get the others. I can take it. I will wait and stay alive, I promise”

“Lance, no, please. I won’t do it. I won’t-”

“I know...”.

Watery eyes raised again, a thin smile on Lance’s lips. Then, he plunged the knife in his stomach, just below the sternum; he fell on the floor with a grunt.

“Lance!!” Pidge yelled, running to their friend and skidding on the floor, scraping their knees, “what-”. The Green Paladin immediately noticed froth forming at the corner of Lance’s quivering mouth, and they gasped.

“‘M sorry Pigeon, so sorry… I c-couldn’t-” he coughed _blood,_ “I couldn’t let you d-do it”

“It’s-?”

“Poisoned… Yeah, sorry ‘bout th’t...”

“Lance!!” honey eyes shone with tears, fat and warm as they rolled down Pidge’s cheek, “why did you do it?” they spoke, voice barely a whisper as their tears finally fell, dripping on Lance’s too pale face. A gloved hand cradled the boy’s hair as his head laid on the Green Paladin’s trembling lap. And Lance… He simply smiled, ocean eyes watery.

Lance coughed, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth, quivering in agony, “I… I couldn’t hu-hurt you… I c-could never… Hurt you…” 

“Lance-”

“Go..!” he breathed out. A low moan tore from his throat as he spasmed, cringing. His eyes started fluttering close.

Pidge’s face as they yelled- unheard- and shook his limp shoulders was the last thing Lance saw as his vision blurred, gray and tipping.

And then, there was only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this may be the most not-me thing I've ever written. Also, I'm late, surprise surprise, so unexpected.


	24. day twenty-four: begging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence, humiliation.

“Okay team! Are we all ready?” Shiro barked, arm glowing brightly as he hid behind a door, Pidge on his side, Keith and Hunk on the other.

“Lance, are you in position?” Pidge called through the commlink, receiving a convinced hum in response, “okay, good. We’re about to go in, be sure to watch our backs, alright?”

_ “Roger that. Good luck, guys! Lance out”  _ he logged off.

“Lance has our butts covered, but we need to be quick nonetheless”

“Yeah,” Hunk intervened, “ I don’t like the idea of him being alone for too long with those guards around”

“Me neither,” Keith admitted, and the others nodded, “let’s go then-”

“Wait. Let’s revise the plan! Keith, you and I burst in first, Hunk will cover the door in case someone comes, Pidge rushes in and collects the intel while also setting the alarms off on the opposite side of the building to lure them away. Got it?”.

A collective nod.

“Great. Let’s go!”

-

Lance’s eye squeezed in the sight telescope of his sniper rifle as he observed the ground from the high point about a hundred meters from the building, making sure that no more guards could get in and shooting them down from behind in case they tried to; the index of the left, dominant hand lingered near the trigger, pressed against the trigger guard and ready to slide in and shoot at the slightest movement of the enemy.

So far, thankfully, the situation had been quiet, but Lance wouldn’t let his guard down for a single instant, not until his friends would all be safe in their Lions, out of that place.

It was a Galra lab known to the Voltron Alliance for the high-secrecy of whatever was going on in there; they had decided to investigate and retrieve useful information to eventually win the fight against the Galra. So Lance waited.

He knew that it was not going to be an easy mission nor a quick one, but for his friends’ safety he would have waited a whole century in that uncomfortable position, sprawled flat on his stomach to avoid being spotted and shot down.

The dust tickled his nose as he scrunched it, blowing out air in burts to get rid of whatever had entered his nostrils- an alien gnat in the nose was the last thing he needed, really.

The comm going off startled him, but he stayed in position. 

_ “Lance, are you in position?”  _ Pidge asked, whispering.

“Mhmh!”

_ “Okay, good. We’re about to go in, be sure to watch our backs, alright?”  _ they warned, and he clearly heard the sound of Shiro’s arm low and insistenz buzz, meaning that it was ready to kill.

“Roger that,” Lance nodded, “good luck, guys! Lance out” and with that, he ended the transmission, sighing as he returned his complete attention to the assigned task.

_ Please, be safe… _

He was not going to let them down, and he was going to protect them at all costs.

-

It had been three vargas, and Lance had started to worry approximately two vargas and a half ago because his friends hadn’t come out yet. When he’d told himself that the mission was going to be long and that it would have been normal for it to last for a while, he didn’t actually think that it could possibly last  _ this  _ long.

Something was wrong, he could feel it. Something was wrong and it was his fault.

“Guys?” he called through the commlink, “is everything alright there?”.

Static.

Were they maintaining radio-silence? Or were they in immediate danger and couldn’t respond?

He tried again, to be safe, “Click your tongue once for ‘we are okay’, twice for ‘need backup now’, please. Even barely audibly, I- I just need to know you’re there, please..?”

Static again, monotone and shrilling.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered, changing the channel, “Allura, Coran?”

_ “In person, lad!” _ the Altean man replied, tone enthusiastic as usual that soothed Lance’s anxiety a bit,  _ “what may I assist you with? The Princess is currently resting, as she’s been moving the Castle too often lately...” _

“I- I think something’s wrong, Coran. The others are not responding and it’s been three vargas, I don’t know what to do” he breathed out shakily.

_ “Quiznak. Okay, okay… One thing at the time. Are you safe now?” _

“I- yes, yes I’m s-safe”

The man hummed,  _ “Good. Now, have you noticed suspect movements while you were watching the building from your location?” _

“N-no, everything’s been awfully quiet, that’s why I’m scared. I paid attention the whole time and I shot down seven sentries in total, one shot each. It was too easy, but- but I thought it was just luck...”

_ “Number Three,”  _ Coran called in a soothing voice,  _ “breathe. Everything will be alright, I promise. I shall go and wake the Princess so that we can come and assist you. In the meantime, keep watch and stay right where you are-” _

“What! I can’t just stay here and do nothing, man! The team m-may be in danger, I must go and help immediately!”

_ “Number Three-” _

“Wh-what if someone snuck in and it’s my fault because I was distracted or-”

_ “Number Three.” _

“-or what if they are already d-dead!?” Lance burped an acidic bubble, nausea and worry washing over him like a tidal wave.

_ “Lance, calm down or so help me I will sing you a bedtime lullaby right here and now! Listen to me,”  _ the man lowered his voice again, _ “if you want to go, then I won’t stop you. But I need you to promise me that you will keep in mind that whatever happened, it was not your fault only. Okay? _ ”

“Why are you saying it like that? Makes me think you fear they’re dead already-”

_ “Lance! Focus on my words. Whatever happened it was  _ Not. Your. Fault.  _ Now take a deep breath and do what you must, but be safe. Please, if you feel like you’re in immediate danger, don’t play hero, just run. We’ll be there soon, I promise” _

“Th-thank you, Coran” Lance smiled to no-one, “please hurry...”

_ “We’re coming, my boy. Hang on!”. _

The communication ended, and Lance shuddered, blue sniper rifle turning into an assault rifle as he rose to his feet and grabbed the weapon; he was ready to do this. 

He had to. For his friends. For his family.

So Lance ran. He ran rapidly, eyes darting around to make sure that nobody was going to attack him.

Getting into the building was a piece of cake, but psychologically speaking the more steps Lance took, the worse he felt; his knees shook and barely sustained his body as Lance swayed, panic clouding his vision.

_ No ahora, ¡Concéntrate! Sálvalos, ya tendrás tiempo de llorar después. _

He kept running and running, and when the trackers of the others’ helmets finally appeared on the screen projected on his visor, he sighed in relief. Though… 

_ Why are they so still? They should be moving... Why aren’t they moving!? Mierda. _

The signal indicated that the team was in the room right around the next corner, so Lance slowed down, pacing rapidly, assuming an attack stance, rifle tight in his hand.

He braced himself for whatever was coming, sweat dripping copiously on his face, hidden by the helmet.

_ Backup’s coming. We can do this. I can do this. _

The atmosphere was tense, anxiety momentarily gone, replaced by the sweet flow of adrenaline in Lance’s veins as he breathed in and out, deeply, to ground himself. 

Rounding the corner, his face dropped.

His friends were kneeling on the floor, arms held tight behind their backs; the blindfold on their pale faces didn’t cover the crippling fear that was taking over there, lips trembling around the gags.

“Guys!”

“Well, look who finally came!” a voice from behind him spoke, and he whirled around, blaster seeking for the right place to aim, “your little friends were right, afterall. You did come to save them, huh?” a General- Lance recognized the stars on his chest- sneered, bots behind quickly encircling the paladins.

“Let us go!” Lance snarled, but didn’t dare to aim for fear that the bots would end him first.

“Eager, aren’t we?”, a dry laugh, “I might let you and your pathetic friends go,but only if you ask nicely”.

Blood froze in Lance’s veins, “...What?”

“My, hard of hearing, aren’t we?” the General smirked, approaching the Blue Paladin and stopping just right in front of him, “beg, Paladin”.

Lance swallowed.

What the  _ fuck  _ was wrong with this guy..?

“P-please, let my friends go..?”, it sounded more like a question than begging, though. THe General didn’t seem to be particularly impressed, “well, that was pretty pathetic and not convincing… Maybe you just need to be in the right mood, right? Bots, remove gags and blindfolds” he commanded, and the bots did.

The four paladins sputtered and coughed, mouths dry and sore, eyes squinting even at the faint purple light in the room.

Keith raised his gaze first, gasping “Lance!”, and the others followed too. His blue orbs stared at them, and then right back at the captor.

“Please, let us go” he muttered, lowering his head a bit. His pride hurt deeply, but he would gladly humiliate himself if that meant saving his team.

He was willing to do anything, really.

And the General apparently noticed.

“On your knees-”

“Lance, don’t do it- aagh!” Hunk yelled, interrupted by a kick in the back, the bots impassable in front of his suffering as he winced and moaned in pain. 

Ocean eyes stared at the floor as he kneeled, back upright and hands at his sides, “Please, let us go”.

The General hummed in amusement, and an instant later he slammed his metal-pointed boot in Lance’s guts, sending him in a bowing position as he coughed, but didn’t complain.

“Lance!!”

“Lance, stop!”

“Don’t do anything else, get up!!” his teammates yelled, impotent in front of that sight.

Lance didn’t even move.

“Lick my boot, pretty boy”

“Lance-!”.

Pidge’s yell was unheard, as Lance’s mind was blank, a loud shrill in his ears as his pink tongue stuck out of his trembling lips and touched the boot, wetting it slightly. An instant later, without raising his eyes, he muttered again, voice low and plain, “please, let us go”.

“Mh...” The Galra hummed again, and put a foot on Lance’s shoulder, propping him up, “look at me”.

Lance did.

“I want to hear you beg. Not ask. Beg.”

“...Please. Please, let us go. I b-” he shivered, “I beg you” he whispered, eyes lowering on reflex.

“Louder”.

A tear shed from Lance’s eye, and he blinked, not bothering to dry the cheek, “Please, let us go. I beg you” he said, a bit louder, now heard from his teammates who were held captive a few feet back.

Lance was angry. Humiliated. Defeated.

Not quite because he was  _ begging,  _ but because that was the only way he could help at all; for the rest, he was useless. He couldn’t burst in and free his teammates in a dobosh like any of the others would have done, no. He had succumbed to the enemy.

“Pl-please...” he sniffled.

“Ow, are you weeping? Why? No, don’t tell me...” the General mocked, “I shall give you a real reason to cry. Bots!”.

At that, the bots pointed their blasters at the team, aiming for the centre of the head.

Lance’s eyes widened in shock, and he almost tried to get up, shoved down abruptly by the General’s boot, “N-no, wait, don’t do it!”

“Now we’re talking… Come on, I want to hear you beg”

“Pl-please, please, please, don’t hurt them, d-don’t hurt them” he stuttered, shocked, “I- I beg you, I’m imploring you to spare th-them, please, please” Lance hiccupped, forehead pressed against the floor.

He felt the General’s boot descend on his head, pressing down, making his nose cartilage starting to crack, “L-let them go, let them go, please, please”.

The Blue Paladin could hear his friends screaming his name, but he didn’t have the strength to reply nor to do anything else, for the matter. He was not going to give this General any reason to harm them, he was going to swallow his pride and save them.

The boot pressed further.

“Pl-please, te lo ruego... ” he choked, sobbing, “let them go, I beg you!!”.

The General sneered, laughing heartily at the sight before his yellow orbs, “More!”

“Please, I beg you!! Please!” Lance yelled, eyes wide as tears flowed down them, dripping onto the floor with snot and blood coming from his nose- most definitely broken- and the lip he was chewing on, “please, p-por favor-”.

Another kick. And another. And another and another and another, hitting Lance’s head and chest, his trembling shoulders, everything.

“Pl-please, st-stop-” Lance breathed out, as his friends screamed for him to get up and fight, because they believed in him, because they would not watch that horrible show for long.

Lance whimpered, kick after kick, losing track of time, losing focus, praying and begging.

Then, suddenly- blissfully- the room was red, lights flashing and alarms blaring.

The General’s boot lifted as he turned around, not that Lance could see it from his position, “What is the meaning of this!?”.

A foreign voice spoke, “Sir, it appears we’ve been breached!! There’s a flying Castle right above us!”

“What? Send all the bots there, and you go idiots too!” he glared, and remained the last one in the room with the paladin as the sentries left.

“You little shit!” he snarled, grabbing Lance’s collar and lifting him up, his feet not even touching the floor anymore- Lance had wondered before why Galra had to be so tall and strong. Now, however, his mind was still blank.

“Please… Please...” he muttered, eyes fluttering almost unfocused, blood staining his face.

Something- someone?- slammed into the General, knocking him off his feet as Lance was dropped down too, falling with a loud thud.

“Lance, are you okay?”.

His eyes didn’t quite focus yet, “p-por favor, déjalos ir...”.

Pidge frowned, glancing over Hunk and Shiro who were currently beating the General to a pulp, “Keith, come here, help me with Lance!”

“What’s wrong with him?” the Red Paladin asked after setting off the distress beacon to let the Alteans know their exact position. He crouched down, gaze filled with worry, “hey buddy, you with us?”

“Déjalos ir déjalos ir déjalos ir déjalos ir-”

Keith hummed, looking at Pidge as Lance kept mumbling, “Yeah, no, he’s definitely  _ not  _ alright. I’ll carry him”

“Thanks. Hunk, Shiro, let’s go!”.

Pidge, Hunk and Shiro ran, freeing the way for Lance and Keith; the latter picked Lance up, grunting, “Man, you are  _ heavy- _ ” he murmured, and started running. Halfway through, Lance’s gaze began to shift back to reality, though Keith didn’t immediately notice, busy in making sure to avoid tripping, “hang on, you’ll be okay...”.

“K-Keith?”.

The Red Paladin smiled, looking down “Are you okay?”

“A-are you s-safe..?” he asked, and only then Keith realized how beat up he was, bleeding and bruising, “d-did I do g-good..?”

“Yes. Yes, you did. You saved us. We’re okay, and you will be okay to, I promise, buddy” he smiled, “now rest…”.

Lance exhaled,  _ he let us go... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No ahora, ¡Concéntrate! Sálvalos, ya tendrás tiempo de llorar después = Not now. Focus! You'll have time to cry later  
> -  
> *sighs dramatically* there it is


	25. day twenty-five: blinded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: temporary blindness, medical procedures (not gore).

“Good job, guys!” Shiro cheered, smiling as he dried the sweat on his forehead with a towel, tossed across his flesh shoulder, “we haven’t trained this well in a while, I’m proud of us”.

The other paladins panted on the ground, all raising a thumb up to their leader, who chuckled, “Was it that intense?”

“No, don’t worry. We’re just dying, no biggie” Pidge wheezed mockingly, eyes scrunched shut, “ugh, my poor muscles...”

Lance moaned, “I feel like my legs will never move again, Dios mío”

“Same,” Hunk groaned, “I think I’m gonna sleep here for the rest of the movement”

“Seconded” Keith nodded, bringing a water pouch to his dry lips.

“Oh, Keith’s tired too? Shiro, you broke him” the Blue Paladin commented, an arm slumped over his face dramatically.

“Shut up, idiot”

“What did you say-!”

Just then, Allura stepped in, a confused look on her face; she looked at the four paladins sprawled unceremoniously on the floor, then she raised her gaze to meet Shiro’s, “What did you do to them?”

“Training..?”

“He forgot we’re not buff like him,” Hunk commented from his position, “he’s tryin’ to kill us, Allura. Run”.

The princess chuckled, “You all look very tired, admittedly. But training purifies and strengthens the mind and the body, so it is not all that bad, right?” she smiled brightly.

Pidge clicked their tongue, “You’re even stronger than him, it’s obvious that you’re on his side!” .

A collective chuckle erupted from everybody, settling quickly.

“Coran has prepared a traditional Altean drink that will make you all feel better, and will also induce sleep, so that you can rest. We do not have anything scheduled for tomorrow, so you may sleep in if you wish to” she said.

Hunk suddenly cried out, and everybody’s attention snapped toward him. 

“Allura, your light is too bright!! Is that an angel before my eyes? Oh, I’m blind!” he exclaimed dramatically, earning a half-hearted kick from Lance while the others laughed, “Idiot, scare me like that again and I’ll hit you for real”

“You wouldn’t”

“...That’s true. But don’t do it again!” Lance pouted, but smiled immediately after, “well, time to hit the showers huh?”. Getting up was  _ painful,  _ as his every muscle complained and ached, trembling under his weight.

“Help me get up!” Pidge pleaded, but the Cuban shook his head, “I’d only let you fall, it’s a miracle I’m even standing”.

Shiro and Allura chuckled, and the man spoke, “We’ll help you. Lance, before showering maybe you should drink what Coran has made? You look exhausted”

“That’s because I am, thanks to you. Also, I’m stinky and I hate it, so I’ll go wash first,” he complained, making his way out of the training deck, “see you guys later!”.

After waving, he left, making his way toward his room.

His head spun slightly- he was probably dehydrated- and his muscles burned, but other than that he felt fine, and confident as well. 

He’d survived one of Shiro’s infamous training sessions, which was a pretty rare event for him.

Whistling, he soon reached his room. As the door slid close behind him, Lance immediately stripped down, peeling the sweaty undersuit off his wet body, cringing at the slimy sensation.

“Boy, I need to shower so bad” he murmured, sniffling the armpits of the suit as his eyes almost watered, “McClain, you stink!”. He tossed the suit in the laundry hamper, promising himself to take it to the shared laundry room later. Drinking directly from the sink, he swallowed a mouthful of water, fresh and cold; then, he entered the shower immediately after removing his damp boxers too, tossing them in the laundry hamper- perfect aim never failed.

The steaming water was a blessing on his sore body, washing down the tension and the pain too, soothing the contracted muscles and keeping them warm so that they would not stiffen and cramp up all of the sudden. 

Wiggling under the stream, hair and body covered in aloe soap as he ran his hands through his locks, Lance tried to ignore the headache that had started to claw at his head. 

He was  _ not  _ going to let that ruin his day, perfect so far.

The Blue Paladin hummed, words half murmured as he washed thoroughly, grabbing the bottle of conditioner and using it as a pretend-mic as he sang his heart out. His little show went on for a while, and after serenading to the shampoo bottles dancing- almost slipping- Lance decided that he needed to eat something. His head was, in fact, killing him.

He shouldn’t have stayed that long under the boiling water, probably, but he didn’t expect it to escalate that quickly. Now that he thought of it, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy too; since he didn’t want to be found passed out in the shower, naked as a baby, he opted to turn the water off. Grabbing a clean towel, he wrapped it around his boney waist, and used another to ruffle his hair. 

He wasn’t feeling too good, but for the sake of his day, again, he was not going to let this make him spend a bad evening. He wanted to eat and chill in the lounge, maybe play with his buddies or go see Kalternecker, but he would absolutely not curl up in bed at six in the afternoon.  _ No way. _

As to prove him wrong, his vision doubled and greyed on the edge, but he decided to ignore that as well. Food. He needed food.

Sighing, but determined to have a good day, Lance opened the door of the bathroom, letting some of the foggy steam out, because the air was getting too humid for his liking and he couldn’t even see that well due to the steam.

And that’s when things started to go downhill.

Blinking, Lance realized that he couldn’t see. 

_ What the..? _

His right eye’s vision was blurry and tiling, rapidly graying at the corners. The left eye, however, was completely dark. Lance’s shaky hand raised to lift the eyelid, but when he hit his bulb, hissing, he soon realized that his eye was already wide open.

_ Fuck. _

Was it a migraine? He had been feeling a bit dizzy and lightheaded, but it was nothing compared to his usual migraines that forced him in bed for a whole quintant. Furthermore, he wasn’t feeling that sick, he was just a bit sluggish from the intense training, all of them were. 

“Oh, esto no es bueno, Lance…” he muttered. 

But was it worth bothering the others? After all, he could still see. He didn’t have a good perception of depth at the moment- in fact, he crashed into the drawer as he went to retrieve a fresh pair of boxers- but he was  _ fine. _

Still, he needed food. After throwing on a pair of black sweatpants and an old, wide t-shirt with a thirty-eyed purple cat on it (one could seriously find the weirdest stuff at Space Malls), Lance started to make his way to the kitchens. 

His stomach growled, and that actually made him feel better, because he was _ just _ hungry,  _ right? _

Lance didn’t even realize that he was only a foot away before crashing into Keith, who stopped him by grabbing his upper arms before the two would collide. 

“Hey, can you watch where you’re going?” the Red Paladin grunted.

Lance sighed, annoyed, “m’ sorry, I didn’t see you there”.

The Japanese raised an eyebrow, removing his hands from Lance and crossing his arms, “Yeah right”.

The Cuban scoffed, “Whatever… I’ll be going”.

Keith’s anger turned into confusion, and then worry, because Lance was walking at full speed toward a wall and-

_ Thud. _

“Lance, what the heck!” he screeched, running to his friend’s side, who was now sitting on the floor, hand massaging his nose, “are you okay!?”.

“I just walked into a wall, Keith. What do you think?” he snarled, shaking his head immediately after, “sorry, didn’t mean to snap. Can you take me to the kitchen?”

“W-wait, should you be standing?”

“I’m fine.” Lance retorted, “I didn’t hit that hard, and my nose isn’t even bleeding”.

Keith’s stomach churned in worry as he helped Lance to his feet. He swayed, but stayed upright. 

“No, I mean… Why did you crash into the wall? Are you dizzy?”.

Lance chuckled at his friend’s concern, it was so rare to hear Keith’s squeaky panicked voice, and it was hilarious to Lance.

“Lance?”

“No, no. I’m not  _ dizzy,  _ I’m just hungry. I’m fine, really" he said, telling a half-truth. No need to worry Keith nor anyone else for the matter, “kitchens, please?”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong”.

Lance sighed, annoyed, “Well, if you don’t want to help me, I’ll find the kitchens  _ myself _ ”.

He passed Keith, hitting him in the shoulders unwillingly, though knowing Lance’s behaviour, Keith thought it was on purpose- but didn’t complain. 

Instead, he followed him close, curious and also concerned.

“I can hear you following me, Keith.” Lance stated, plain.

Keith hummed, “I’m just walking in the same direction as you, it’s not like the corridor’s yours or whatever, right?”.

The Cuban didn’t reply, focused on not hitting anything again because now he was completely blind. He was starting to get scared, but willed the anxiety away. 

He was  _ fine _ . He was going to be fine. No need to be such a wuss, that’s what his father used to tell him whenever he was in pain for an illness or a wound. So he learnt to stay quiet. Having Keith mocking him as he was already in pain was the less ideal thing now, and Lance honestly just wanted to grab something to eat and relax with a game or something.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, Kogane?”

“No.”

“No special training with Shiro, no nothing?”

“The others are all passed out in the lounge, whatever Coran gave us was pretty strong and effective”.

Lance hummed, “Why aren’t you asleep too?”

“I poured the thing into the plants, it didn’t smell good”

“Are you a child? Seriously!”.

Keith snorted, “Said the guy that refuses to get help when he’s dying”

“I’m not dying, I just can’t see shit” he blurted out, regretting it. 

_ So much for ‘not bothering anyone’ huh? _

He heard Keith skid to a halt and then jog to his side, grabbing his wrist, “Wait, wait, are you serious? You can’t see?”.

A nod, defeated, “It’s noth-”

“You can’t see  _ at all? _ ”

Another nod.

Keith lost several shades and cursed, “Fuck, Lance! That’s literally one of the worst things that could happen, how can you be so chill? Jesus Christ, we need to get Coran-”

“No!” Lance freed himself, “look, I’m fine. It will pass, eventually”.

Keith was looking absolutely vivid now, “You keep saying you’re  _ “fine”  _ but you crashed into a fucking wall and are currently blind. Do you even hear yourself? I’m dragging you to the infirmary right now”.

Lance tried his best to resist, but he wasn’t up to physically pulling back, so he let Keith drag him. 

“If Coran gets mad because I annoyed him with my problems, I’m going to beat you” Lance hissed, angry and bracing himself for Coran’s eventual anger.

Keith looked at him, not that Lance could see him doin it.

“Why would he be mad at you if you’re sick?” he asked, concerned. Nobody had ever yelled at Lance when he was in pain, they joked at most when the injury was minor, like a scratch or a tiny bruise, but they’d never reproached him when he was in severe pain. Also because Lance wasn’t the type to complain if something was not wrong.

_ Right?  _

“Are you in pain?”

“No”

“Lance…”

The Cuban groaned, “No, really! I told you my only problem now is that I’m hungry like a beast, really”. And he wasn’t lying. Despite a minor headache, he was perfectly fine.

Keith hummed, “And the blindness?”

“Fine, that too. Are we there yet?”

“Almost. We need to call Coran first, he’s probably on the deck, not far from the infirmary” Keith explained, “are you okay?”

“Ask me again and I  _ will _ punch you!!”

He rolled his amethyst eyes, “Gee, fine, fine. Calm down, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not dying or something”

“I’m not. Can we hurry? I have plans for tonight”.

Keith frowned. No matter what was happening to him, he would not let Lance leave the infirmary until the following day at least. He didn’t say it, though.

Finally, they reached the deck, and thankfully the Altean man was there, fiddling with holographic maps. He noticed the two paladins, smiling brightly under his moustache.

“Hello guys,” he chirped, returning his attention to the maps, “I know what you’re here for. You want more of that drink, don’t you? It’s heavenly, I know”.

Keith exhaled, smiling and then turning serious again, “Maybe later… Can you assist Lance, please? He’s, huh, blind”

“I can speak for myself, you know…”

“What!” Coran exclaimed, “he’s blind? All of the sudden, you mean?”.

The two both nodded.

“Let’s head to the infirmary, I need to run some scans!” the man fretted.

The rest of the short trip to the infirmary was quiet, and when they got there Lance got immediately eased down on a cot. He crossed his arms, pouting, “I hate this. I’m not sick, why do I have to be here?”

“Because I said so” Keith retorted, dragging a chair next to the gurney.

Coran was washing his hands carefully up to his elbow, “I will need to run some tests to understand what’s wrong”

“Not to complain but, do you know how?” Keith asked, scratching his head. To be fair, Coran had never performed delicate procedures in front of them, so they were allowed to have doubts.

“I was an Altean Military Medic, Number Four, of course I do! A whole decade spent between books and labs surely taught me something, don’t you agree?”.

Lance gasped, “you’re a doctor? What kind?”. He heard Coran put latex gloves on, snapping around his wrists loudly, “I’m specialized in neurosurgery, though in the military I did all sorts of things, as you can imagine. The luxury of portable pods was something we did not have at the time” he sighed, “speaking of pods, you may be wondering why I haven’t put you in one”

“Yeah, I was”

“I wasn’t,” Keith cut in, “because I listen when people tell me things. Pods are for injuries, not illnesses or stuff like that”

“...Show off” Lance muttered under his breath, “Can we get this over with? I hate bothering you so much, Coran”.

The mad shook his head, “none of that, my boy! I’m glad to help whenever I can. Now, let’s see what we have here”.

After examining Lance’s eye carefully, Coran declared that he was going to need another test. The words made Lance’s word spin, and his breathing got so hitched and erratic that Coran considered hooking him up to an oxygen mask.

However, a few minutes later, Lance managed to calm down on his own. Keith hoovered close, not knowing how to be useful, so he just stared at Lance, gaze filled with worry and anxiety. But Lance did not want any  _ procedure  _ done near his ocean eyes, no way. The only thought only made him spiral again.

Keith reacted on instinct, grabbing his friend’s hand and massaging the back of it with his thumb, trying to soothe and reassure Lance, “It’s going to be okay, Lance, I promise” he said, not really knowing what he was talking about but determined to help his friend out of his panicking state, “do you want me to get someone else? Hunk, maybe?”.

Lance shook his head, “N-no, please stay...” he choked out, squeezing Keith’s hand and his own eyes to will the nausea and dizziness away, “I’m r-ready, Coran”.

The man’s gaze was soft and understanding, “It won’t hurt in the slightest, I promise. It may look scary, but it’s painless”

“I can’t really see, so...” Lance dry laughed, nervous, gripping Keith’s hand further, knuckles going white, “j-just don’t tell me what you do… I… I don’t wanna know”

“Alright, Lance” the man nodded “I will start now. I have to give you more eye drops, but these ones are not going to sting as bad, in fact, they’re just numbing drops”.

The boy smiled, relieved.

Coran raised his gaze after putting the drops, telling Lance to close his eyes for now. He looked to Keith, mouthing so that Lance wouldn’t hear, “you might want to look away now” he said, and started the procedure.

Keith should have really looked away, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off the probe touching Lance’s cornea. It looked so big and painful, but Lance didn’t seem to be in pain. He just whimpered, not moving too much for fear that he would cause more harm. 

Then, Coran removed the probe, sighing not too loudly, “All done, Lance”

“Wh-what’s the problem with me?” the Cuban fretted, “it’s nothing, r-right?”.

Keith looked at Coran too, hopeful that he would agree.

But the Altean man shook his head, and Keith’s heart dropped to his guts.

“I think you’re having an eye stroke. Before you fret, it’s not fatal and it’s reversible in your case, so take a deep breath, my boy!” the man blurted, as Lance’s eyes had widened drastically at the word ‘stroke’.

“They happen when your blood pressure is too high, though it’s rare for someone so young to experience this problem… But not impossible, so I wouldn’t worry too much. We will need to think of ways to prevent this from happening again, though. Before that, let’s get rid of this problem, okay?”

Keith ran a hand through his hair, “What can you do about it?” he asked, voice shaky.

“Well… There’s medicine that can help, but I don’t have any here and I fear that, by the time I synthetize anything, the stroke might worsen. So, the other option is making you inhale some carbon dioxide-oxygen mixture to dilatate the artery of your retina” he smiled, “not too bad, right?”

“S-so no needles?”

Coran chuckled, “No needles, my boy. I’ll fetch what I need, you relax in the meantime” he said, getting up from his stool and reaching the opposite side of the wide infirmary.

Keith breathed out in relief, smiling, “You good?”.

A tiny nod.

“Lance… Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

The Blue Paladin shrugged, “Didn’t think it mattered” he murmured.

“Lance!” Keith cringed at his own harsh tone, “of course it matters. You matter. Whenever you feel unwell, you need to warn the others, you got it? Please”.

The Cuban’s mouth quivered in shame, “I’m... I’m sorry, Keith...”.

The latter shook his head, “It’s fine. You just scared the shit out of me, so don’t do that again” he smiled. Lance did too.

Maybe Keith was right. Maybe nobody would get mad at him for being sick. Maybe they really cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t want this to be too tragic because my boy needs a break and he’s also a silly bean and this deserves to be portrayed and respected. Also, it’s like 3k words and maybe too medical? I’m sorry, I got carried away there, if I were good at chemistry I would have actually applied to become a doctor, really.


	26. day twenty-six: wetting in fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD, blood and gore, vomiting, klance.

The past few phoebs had been plain terrible for the team, there was no way of sugarcoating it: battle after battle, they kept losing possible allies and people who already fought for Voltron, due to both unloyalty and sheer bloodshed.

The cherry on top was that Lance had been taken, kept prisoner for two whole phoebs and six quintants; he hadn’t been given the luxury of wielding a weapon when he used to be mercilessly thrown into the arena, off to fight either some poor, helpless creature or some feral monster from planets far far away.

Keith had gone ballistic when he realized that his boyfriend had been taken. He’d be more violent and ruthless in interrogating possible witnesses and culprits, and once he’d also punched Shiro square in the face when he was told to _please, rest!_

Because how could he rest? How could he do that when the boy he loved was trapped and possibly dead?

Keith wasn’t going to give up, and the others were with him.

So they searched and searched, restlessly hoping to find some clue that they had missed, some Galra communication that they had accidentally intercepted, some leak.

Something. Anything would have helped.

And one day- or night? Keith had lost track of time by now- Hunk and Pidge burst into the room where he was flickering through stolen codes. The two yelled that they had found him, and Keith had never been so quick in getting up and jumping on Red.

When the team managed to rescue the poor Paladin, they immediately popped in a cryopod: the diagnosis hadn’t been pretty.

Three broken ribs (fractured recently according to the scanners), a shredded ligament in his leg, a badly broken wrist and some unidentified internal damage that the druids had properly healed. 

“Healed” was an overstatement, actually. 

What they had done according to the exams was using their magic to literally sew the cuts, not caring to prevent infections or seeing if the damage had caused any more damage to the inner tissues. And that wasn’t good.

That was terrible, to be honest. 

And those weren’t even half of the injuries that Lance had been inflicted.

Coran, who was the most pragmatic and calm of the whole team when it came to medical issues, actually had to stop through the list of other injuries and sit down, like the others, whose gazes were fixed to their feet the whole time.

Lance came out of the pods a whole movement later. Besides Coran and Allura, who had spent ten thousand decaphoebs in there, the Blue Paladin was the one that had used a pod for the longest. Keith didn’t like that.

But Lance seemed fine. Physically, the scans indicated that he was back to full health, though starved and severely dehydrated- that’s why, after a single dobosh of coming out of the pod, he was already hooked up to fluid and nutrients bags. Mentally, though, the team had their doubts.

Again, Lance seemed fine. He said he was. Nobody believed him, especially Shiro who had witnessed on his own skin what the Galra did with their tricks.

-

“Are you sure you’re up for training already?” Keith fretted as Lance put his armor on. The two had stayed in their shared room most of the time since Lance had come out of the cryopod, because Allura wanted them to have time to catch-up and relax. The others had agreed wholeheartedly, of course.

Lance sighed, and flashed a big, bright smile to his boyfriend.

“Relax, Keith. I’ve been out of the pod for three quintants already, I’m a picture of health!”

Keith sighed, “I’m not talking about your physical shape-”

“Keith.” Lance was in his face in a moment, grabbing his upper-arms, eyes pleading, “please, don’t do this to me. Don’t… Don’t treat me like I’m.. Like I’m broken or something”

“I’m not, I… I just worry for you”

“And I’m glad, very very glad for that, man. But… I can do this. I’m good. As long as my mind is focused on something else, I’m good” he explained, eyes warm and calm, “please, just let me do this”.

The Red Paladin frowned, cupping Lance’s face delicately, “Only if you swear to warn me as soon as you feel like it’s too much. Promise me you will tell me, Lance. Promise it”

“But I-”

“You never ask for help and I know you won’t start now, but please. I beg you, tell me when something is wrong” Keith exhaled, breath itched, voice low and shaky, “Please…”.

The Blue Paladin sighed, nodding imperceptibly. And then, they left for the training deck, silent.

-

Allura and Coran observed the scene from above, pleased with everybody’s performance as they fought the training bots.

“Hunk, on your left!” Pidge screamed, dodging the bot’s swing as they skidded under another bot’s arm, surprising it from behind and taking it out.

Hunk slammed his whole body into the bot he’d been warned about, shooting another one with his cannon, “Thanks, Pidge!”

“Team, let’s gather them all at the centre of the ring and let’s get this over with!” Shiro grunted as a bot shot very close to his leg, missing it for a couple of inches at most.

The Red Paladin screeched, back against the wall, “Lance!” 

“On it!” the Blue Paladin replied, shooting down two bots that were crowding Keith, “hah, take that- aaah!” he jumped as a bot slammed into him, making him trip and fall down. Thankfully, Shiro quickly got rid of it, and approached Lance with his eyebrows knitted in worry.

“You good?”

“Yeah man, I was just surprised” Lance grinned as he got to his feet with the leader’s help. The man smiled and ran off to beat more bots. 

Pidge electrocuted another bot, “There’s only five left, each of us only has to take out one and we’re good!” they yelled, already targeting one of the remaining enemies.

The others yelled in agreement as adrenaline coursed through their veins.

Lance witnessed as each of the other bots was taken hostage by one of his teammates and wondered where the one he was supposed to take down was. The answer came when he swirled around rapidly, grip tight on his beyard, and found the bot less than a meter from him, approaching rapidly. His blaster clattered to the ground loudly, returning to its original form.

And the dam broke.

_“What is it, Paladin? Are you scared?” Lance’s opponent snarled, taking each heavy step slowly, broad-axe tight in his furry hands. The teen was shaking like a leaf, worn for the battles he’d already fought during that single first day. He glanced around to find anything to use as a weapon, but it was too late when the axe descended; it missed him by pure luck. Lance ran, around the enemy, panting._

_His eyes were wide and watery, the pain of the nasty bruises forming under his prisoner uniform painful and swollen. He eyed the cut on his right upper-arm, that stung and was hot to the touch._

_‘What a great first day...’_

_An ugly snarl tore him from his pondering as the broad-axe descended again, missing as Lance escaped, over and over and over._

_And Lance, he was beat._

_The other guy, a study Garla man, tall and buff, seemed to have a never-ending supply of stamina and sheer desire to hurt Lance; he kept swinging the weapon, laughing as Lance struggled to catch his breath._

_The spectators cheered loudly as Lance got slower and slower, running out of corners to hide in, of ideas to get the hell out of that infernal place._

_His legs gave out and he whimpered._

_He was going to die there. He was going to die there and never see his family and friends again._

_Lance was never going to get one of his mom’s tender kisses on the forehead, nor have his siblings ruffle his hair._

_He was never going to hug his best friend Hunk again._

_He was never going to joke around with Pidge again._

_He was never going to chat with Coran again._

_He was never going to hear Allura talking about Altea again._

_He was never going to have Shiro pat his back in a fatherly way._

_And Keith… He was never going to be with Keith again. Lance was never going to hear his croaky voice, to see his shiny and warm eyes, to hear him chuckle, to hold his callous hand, to smell his cherry scent, to kiss his soft lips… He was never going to do that again._

_Because Lance was going to die. He was going to die._

_The Blue Paladin’s eyes rose to meet the broad-axe descending._

_Tears fell from his wide eyes- pupils pinpoint and glued to the object- just when the first drops of blood trickled down his leg and onto the dusty arena’s pavement. Lance would have lied if he said that he felt any pain before actually laying his eyes on the axe that sank in his leg. Half of its blade was completely inside of him, bone preventing the thing from amputating his leg right there, and blood spilled everywhere as his opponent removed it. That’s when Lance screamed._

_He screamed as he bled out, vomit spilling out of his trembling lips as his throat got more and more raw with each passing tic. He writhed in pain like a dog in the streets, rolling on the floor as he just prayed to pass out, and maybe they would leave him alone for the day._

_All he saw was purple and red red red red red red red red red red red red red-_

“LANCE!! Answer me, love!”

_What..?_

The world shifted back into focus, slowly, agonisingly. It hurt so much, he was going to die there-

“Don’t do that, breathe. You’re fine, we’re here, I’m here, shh”.

Intrusive hands delicately fell on his shoulders but _no no no no get away from me, please!_

“Lance. It’s okay. You’re not there anymore” Keith spoke, voice soft and barely a whisper.

The others stared from a distance, eyeing the yellowish liquid dripping down from Lance’s pants as he writhed and sucked in shallow, shaky breaths. He suddenly realized that Keith was right, he was not _there_ anymore. He lowered his eyes, feeling wet because _am I bleeding-?_ but no, he wasn’t. That wasn’t blood.

The Cuban dry chuckled as he felt the sticky liquid itching his skin under the briefs and the tight suit. He’d wetted himself like a _stupid_ child.

“-will care of him, don’t stay here-”

“-give him space-”

“-thanks, I’ll meet you after-”

Suddenly, the voices were gone. 

His back was pressed against a wall, knees propped high as his elbows rested on them, hands on the nape, pinning his head between the legs- whoever did it was to make him breathe better, probably. They had also removed his helmet. 

Lance exhaled shakily, finally coherent enough to understand what was going on; he saw white and red boots in front of him, but didn’t lift his gaze.

“It’s me, Keith. Are you okay?”.

A tiny nod, “m’ sorry...”

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m- I’m here for you...” the Red Paladin murmured, voice tight in something that went beyond simple concern, “baby, are you-”.

But Lance was already getting up on his own, using the wall behind him to stay upright. His legs gave out, eyes fluttering close as sweat damped his hair and neck because it was _just like that time when my leg-_

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Keith hushed, grabbing him from under the armpits and guiding him toward the floor again, “what is it? Are you dizzy? Lance??”

“Mmnh, jus’... Gimme a tic...” Lance grunted, tired and humiliated. Changing position, he lowered his knees slightly and pressed the palms of his hands in his eye sockets.

“Okay, okay” the Japanese teen muttered, crouching down before Lance and carefully avoiding the urine, “we can wait as long as you need, really. Just breathe for now”

A sob wrecked his body.

“M’ sorry, m’ so sorry… I’m- gimme a s-second-”

“Shhh, hey, hey,” Keith shushed, gently prying the hands away, not wanting his boyfriend to hurt himself, “breathe, Lance. It’s okay. It’s not your fault. None of this is”

Another sob, louder, high-pitched, “I th-thought I- I could-could handle it. I- I’m so p-pathetic”

“Lance. Listen to me, baby. You are not pathetic, okay? You’ve been through the worst shit, and you got a pretty bad flashback. Shiro has those all the time, right?"

"Y-yeah, but-"

"And do you think he’s pathetic?”.

A tiny shake of head.

“So you are not pathetic either, okay?”. Lance sobbed again.

“Sh-Shiro doesn’t w-wet himself-” he choked out, “he d-doesn’t”.

A soft hand brought his chin up, and Lance met Keith’s warm gaze, worried but steady, “Lance, none of this is your fault. It happens. It happens to everyone, love…”.

But it didn’t. Last time Lance had pissed himself, he was seven at most. And he had never seen any adult doing it either.

He felt _pathetic._

_Worthless._

_A hindrance._

“You’re not” Keith said firmly- did Lance say it out loud?- “you are none of those things. I love you, and I care for you. We all do". Keith wiped away Lance's tear with a now ungloved hand.

"You are worth more than you can even imagine, and you help us all the time, because you are a good paladin and a good friend. To me, you are the best person in the universe... Please, don’t say that about yourself. It’s PTSD, and it plays weird fucking tricks on your mind... None of this is your fault”. Keith spoke softly, but his tone was stern, severe. He was not going to leave until Lance would understand that he mattered so much more than he thought.

Because they all loved Lance immensely.

They would all gladly help him to get through this.

And Keith was never going to leave his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID I SHAMELESSLY ABUSE THE BEAUTIFUL THING THAT IS REPETION FOR DRAMATIC PURPOSES? YES. DO I REGRET IT? FUCK NO.  
> I had zero clue on how to proceed with this one, then yesterday night (morning? It was like 3AM) while I was trying to sleep, the scene with Lance staring at the bot and having a violent flashback popped to my mind. It was just a matter of creating a story around it et voilà! Holy shit, writing was the first thing I did as soon as I woke up and it only took me- like- a hour?? It usually takes me two for each prompt. I'm kinda proud of this one, not going to lie :) !!  
> I finished this- like- five hours ago and I forgot to post it, sorry. I'm also taking a break from social media, especially instagram and whatsapp, because I feel crowded and more anxious than usual and those do not help. That means more time to read (currently "Pride and Prejudice". Again, yes!) and writing, though.  
> Sorry, I'm rambling LOL. The next three chapters (I can't believe I'm ALMOST there) will be up soon. Thanks, sorry for this big-a$$ note oh my gosh.


	27. day twenty-seven: gagged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: vomiting, panic attack, injury.  
> (translation of the parts in Spanish will be found in the end notes)

Pain. Just pain.

Not the unbearable, gut wrecking kind, no, more like the annoying one.

That’s the first thing that Lance’s brain registered as the Cuban slowly blinked his ocean eyes open. Squinting, he realized that it was dark, too dark to see anything clearly.

He grunted.

Lance remembered being ambushed on a solo mission, and then something had managed to knock him out. He’d probably woken up during the trip to wherever he was now, because he could vaguely remember the narrow, smelly corridors he was dragged through.

_Fuck._

That was not how he had planned to spend the evening.

Luckily enough, his stomach felt full, meaning that he had been trapped for a couple of vargas at most. Lance shivered, because they’d taken his armor and the thermal undersuit was not enough to keep him warm on that icy planet. His back was pressed against the wall, and his hands were tied tightly in front of him, a second rope securing the wrists to his hips. He could not bring his hands up.

The Blue Paladin shifted, legs spread open: his toes couldn’t touch the opposite wall, meaning that the room was wide enough. 

Still, something felt different, and wrong.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what at first. Then, Lance clicked his tongue.

Or, he tried to.

Color immediately drained from his face, now pale and instantly clammy, as he realized that his mouth was full of something that definitely did not belong there.

A gag.

He had been gagged.

_Esto es malo. Esto es muy malo. Mierda. Mierda…_

Taking a shuddering breath through his nose, and exhaling, Lance felt his lungs inflate and deflate. He was okay. He could still breathe.

_Vas a estar bien, Lance. Vas a estar bien._

He was going to be okay.

Now, he only needed to figure out where he was and how to get the _hell_ out of there. 

From what he could tell, there was a ball of cloth- too big to be comfortable- inside of his mouth, and what felt like a metal wire- _espero que estés equivocado, Lance… -_ that made sure he didn’t spit it out. Lance could feel the wire bruising his cheeks and the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t understand if the metallic taste that tingled his trapped tongue came from the blood seeping through the small wounds on his lips or from the wire itself. He really didn’t want to find out.

The wire was too tight, and cut through the corners of his trembling lips, sinking in the skin, making his front teeth show excessively because his whole face was being pulled awkwardly. 

Lance hated this. Not being able to hum reassuring words to himself, to call for help, or to say anything that would have made him feel less lonely and anxious. 

_Respira, Lance. Tu nariz funciona perfectamente. Respira, vamos…_ he chanted in his head, pleased by that imaginary noise that filled his mind at last.

But he still needed to find a way to escape, and having his hands bound in that manner surely represented a huge obstacle. This was not going to be easy.

On the bright side, he was sure that the team was already out looking for him, since they’d heard him frantically ask for backup when he’d been taken. On the other side, however, he could have been placed elsewhere without knowing it nor having a way to tell his friends.

Lance needed to stretch his legs.

So he bent forward, butt laid on his heels as he reminded himself to take deep breaths. He was going to be fine. Then, he brought one knee up, and the other. 

He was not expecting to hit the ceiling so violently when he tumbled down an instant later, a muffled scream of pain coming from his dry throat.

 _No no no no no, por favor, no. Demasiado pequeño- es demasiado pequeño aquí, no puedo-_ an acidic burp made its way up before he could even finish his thought.

Lance scrambled on all fours, the position awkward and unnatural due to his bonded wrists. He needed to keep himself up somehow, but he couldn’t- it was too late-

Vomit spilled from his lips, seeping through the cloth in his mouth, impregnating it with the sick spurting out of Lance’s constricting throat. 

He was loud, whimpering and moaning, crying, gagging further.

The small puddle onto the cell’s dirty pavement grew wider as another wave of nausea washed over Lance. Bile and the little food he had in him came out of his stretched yet occupied mouth, and the veins on his forehead popped out dangerously as he cringed and screamed. His stomach wouldn’t settle as he retched again and again, not even having the chance to spit, to rinse his mouth from the taste of death. The cloth was drenched in vomit and this made Lance heave more, louder. 

He needed to get the thing out, he needed to cut the wire, to pull the ball out of his mouth, to breathe. 

_Dios_ , he couldn't breathe.

The gag was pressed against his palate, tickling the soft part of his mouth, making the tongue unable to move; Lance swallowed, and the thin, precious saliva he had left only made the vomit that impregnated the cloth more liquid. He swallowed drops of his own bile, only to bring it up again an instant later.

Tears streamed down his aching face because the wire hurt immensely. More blood poured from the corners of his lips, chapped and stained in vomit and crimson liquid, and Lance trembled further.

He struggled to inhale. Not even his nose could help him, as the stench of sickness was too overwhelming, tear and panic-inducing. 

_¡¡Voy a morir aquí!!_

He didn’t register as he plummeted to the pavement on his side, legs curling up and smearing the puddle in the process. Lance trembled and screamed his lungs out, because he didn’t care if they’d beat him, he didn’t care if the guards would kill him, because at least he wouldn’t have had to bear that torture anymore. He didn’t care.

A strangled cry consumed all the air he had left, but he didn’t stop. Lance kept going, pushing more oxygen out, vocal cords vibrating soundlessly as his abdomen squeezed impossibly. 

Vomit and air escaped his lips, and blood, so copper and warm, trickling down his face.

There were hands on his shoulders, hands on his head, and _no no no no no, déjame ir, no puedo soportarlo más, ¡déjame ir!_

“-ce, shh, you’re o-”

More hands on him, the wire jerking and bruising further, the skin at the corners of Lance’s mouth ripped open, bleeding.

“-’re going to be okay-”

Something pushed its way between the wire and the back on his head, and it pulled, _¡Duele! ¡Duele! ¡Duele!_

“-rry Lance, we’re so-”

Then, a snap, loud, right behind Lance’s ears. He spasmed, squirming out of the firm grip on his shoulders, whimpering, shaking.

“-okay, we’re here, Lance-”

Someone’s hands were on his lips now, they were pushing them open even further, but no, he couldn’t, his jaw would break, he would-

“-trying to get it out-”

Lance panted and gagged, eyes refusing to focus on who he had in front of him, refusing to adjust to the now dim light in the cell. His hands were free now, and he threw them up in the air, and then at the person in front of him. He had to go, he had to run away before they could-

“-ce, wait, no! Calm down-” someone coaxed, grabbing his bruised wrists, angry red and purple marks blistering his sweaty skin.

The Blue Paladin convulsed in their grip, trying to free himself, and wailing as he failed.

Snot and tears stained his face, mixing with the blood, the vomit, the spit, the sweat.

The hand from before descended in his mouth again, grabbing the ball of cloth. He hurled, but the hand didn’t leave, and instead grabbed the intrusive object and yanked it out, tossing it with a loud _splotch_ sound. 

Lance’s jaw was on fire, his lips bleeding and split. And his lungs burnt as he struggled to draw the tiniest breath. His mouth was hung open, numb yet sore like never before, useless as it struggled to swallow and somehow make the taste of retch go away.

Voices- too loud- were talking to him, talking about him. 

“-ce, please, breathe-” someone familiar, firm yet kind, muttered, a hand tentatively reaching out and waving in front of his blurred gaze, “it’s us, we found y-”

That brought up more vomit, spilling the liquid onto the person’s padded knees. They didn’t move an inch.

“Shhh, we’re here, Lance. You’re safe-” another voice came, hoarse and warm, “breathe, now”.

He knew those voices. He knew those hands.

Blinking, slowly and steadily, to ready himself to whatever was waiting from him- maybe it was just a sweet, sweet dream, or should he call it a nightmare?- Lance managed to focus his gaze. It fell upon Shiro, crouched in front of him, stained in Lance’s sick, but not caring.

Keith, Hunk and Pidge were there as well, crouching and staring from a distance to give him space.

“Hey there, buddy!” the leader smiled, though his face was tight in concern, “are you with us?”

“Sh’ro...” Lance croaked out, voice hoarse. He brought a trembling hand to his face, fingers gently tracing the corners of his lips, the barely ghost-like contact making him flinch and whimper.

“Don't do that” Keith said, shifting forward, now crouching next to Shiro as Pidge and Hunk readied their beyards and smiled, leaving to approach the cell’s door and clear the way for the imminent escape. 

“Your face is pretty bruised already, don’t make it worse” he spoke.

“Are you okay?” Shiro added.

_No. No, I’m not._

Before Lance could whisper his answer, his head felt light, and he plummeted forward, finally unconscious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> •Esto es malo. Esto es muy malo. Mierda. Mierda… = This is bad. This is very bad. Fuck. Fuck...  
> •Vas a estar bien, Lance. Vas a estar bien. = You're going to be fine, Lance. You're going to be fine.  
> •espero que estés equivocado, Lance... = I hope you're wrong, Lance...  
> •Respira, Lance. Tu nariz funciona perfectamente. Respira, vamos... = breathe, Lance. Your nose works perfectly. Breathe, c'mon...  
> •Demasiado pequeño- es demasiado pequeño aquí, no puedo- = Too small- it's too small in here, I can't-  
> •¡¡Voy a morir aquí!! = I'm going to die here!!  
> • déjame ir, no puedo soportarlo más, ¡déjame ir! = let me go, I can't take this anymore. Let me go!  
> • ¡Duele! ¡Duele! ¡Duele! = hurts, hurts, hurts!  
> -  
> This is short, but I'm happy with how it came out. I was 2k words into this when I decided that I hated the story, so I changed it completely.  
> -  
> yo... I'm so tired. I want to write but anxiety doesn't allow me to sit at the desk for more than ten minutes before I start to feel dizzy and breathless, and like utter shit in general. Gosh, I'm a mess. I'm worried about everything and everyone. It's all too overwhemling, I fear like I'm never going to get anything done in life, like I'm going to die soon, or like someone I love is, and- keeping the smiley face up is tiring. Too tiring. I don't know, I need help that I can't get at the moment, and it sucks. I hate myself for always reaching this point before asking for help. I'm an idiot.  
> But... I hope you guys are all okay. I cherish all of your comments: they mean the world to me, and so do you. Stay safe, okay?


	28. day twenty-eight: collared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: electrocution, klance.

Lance swallowed, his Adam’s apple bumping uncomfortably bouncing against the cold, heavy collar around his neck. He sighed, glancing at Keith, who was tied on the other side of the shared cell, unmoving, out cold.

_At least they haven’t collared him…_

Still, getting out of there was going to be hard: Lance and Keith were chained to the opposite sides of the cell, strangely wide. Then, Keith was probably concussed and currently unconscious, and the collar constricting Lance’s already bruised neck was surely enough a shock collar. The Cuban could see the small red light beeping steadily in his peripheral vision, eyes glued to the collar, the motion and stretch making him a little dizzy.

Waiting for the rescue to come was their best option for now, though he didn’t doubt that the Galra would’ve come to torture them soon. He just hoped that the team would hurry.

The intense sensation of worry for Keith almost faded when Lance heard a low, guttural groan coming from his boyfriend.

“Keith? You waking up?” he asked, hesitant, “come on, open your eyes” he whispered, trying to squint to see the other paladin in that dimly lit cell.

His voice echoed, and it only made him more aware of the nothingness and emptiness around them.

“L-Lance? Wha’… Wha’s going on..?” the Japanese teen croaked out, barely audible.

“Don’t worry about that now. How do you feel?”

“M’head hurts but I’m fine,” he swallowed, trying to get up and being yanked back by the chains, “...oh.”

“Yeah, about that-”

“Have we been captured? Shit...”

Lance nodded slowly, the collar limiting his movements, “Yeah. You don’t remember?”

“I… I think I do. I dun know, it’s all kinda fuzzy now… Was I hit?”

“Yeah, I’m worried you may be-”

“M’ not concussed, just aching all over. Relax” Keith breathed out, sitting up with his back against the cold wall, “wait, are _you_ okay?”.

Keith didn’t like the pause that followed, “...Lance-”

“I’m fine, really. I wasn’t even knocked out, I’ve been awake the whole time, I promise”. And it wasn’t a lie. Lance just hoped that Keith wouldn’t be able to see the collar, since the feeble light coming from outside didn’t shine as brightly on his side of the cell.

“Are you sure? You sound like you’re in pain” Keith prompted, eyebrows arched in worry. It didn’t matter how much he tried to squint, Lance’s form was too enveloped by the shadows to see anything. Sadly, being only half Galra didn’t help much in these cases.

“Keith, relax. I’m okay… It’s you I’m worried about, you took a nasty hit back there”

“I’m fine too. I don’t even think it bruised...” Keith sighed.

A hum, “Okay, good”.

Both of the boys suffered because they had keep such a professional relationship, the urge to scream each other’s name and cry strong. But they had promised that, when they had the Voltron armor on, they would not express any emotion stronger than sympathy and mild concern for their _friends_. 

“Listen-” 

And then, the door burst open, abruptly and loud. Two Galra soldiers stepped in, sturdy and haughty, clearly sneering.

“At last, we finally have captured the Red and the Blue Paladin of Voltron… I shall have fun today” one spat, snickering. The other limited herself to nod, a sickening grin on her furry face. 

“Just so you know, if our team find out that you’ve hurt any of us, they’re going to murder you guys” Lance muttered. He knew that was stupid, the most idiotic thing to do in a similar situation, but there was no way he was going to let Keith be the target. He was glad to sacrifice himself and buy them time.

“Ah, we have a chatty one, don’t we?” the first Galra hummed, approaching Lance, “I would not act like that if I were in your situation”

“Leave him alone!” Keith interrupted, “let us go, now”.

The Galra woman slowly went in front of him, “Red Paladin, I would appreciate it if you answered to some of our questions”.

Keith spat, literally.

“...I understand. My colleague will maybe convince you to collaborate?”

“Keep dreaming”.

The Galra woman turned around; she eyed the other man, who nodded and started fiddling with whatever he kept in his pocket, Picking that out, he chuckled, “It will be fun to witness just how long a human body can resist”. Then, he glanced down at Lance.

The Blue Paladin took a shuddering breath, exhaling slowly, shakily.

_Oooh mierda-_

“Keith, don’t tell them anything!!” Lance yelled, trying to get on his knees only to be sent back to the floor with a kick. But he was ready. He was ready

“Where is the Castle of Lions located?”

Keith shrugged. He wasn’t scared of being beaten, he wasn’t scared of taking the hit if it meant sparing Lance.

The woman looked at him, unfazed, and then back at her colleague. He snarled.

And Lance’s world ignited.

It took Keith an instant to realize that it was not himself to be suffering, but he didn’t even find the strength to speak, paralyzed in utter fear. 

Lance’s body jerked onto the pavement, face down in the dirt, a strangled scream unable to get out because his muscles were too tense to collaborate. All Lance felt was pain, agonizing and persistent. 

It was like fire burning his veins and spreading out from where the tight collar almost choked him; as he thrashed uncontrollably, nerves on fire, throat raw, head light, Lance was vaguely aware of the fact that his breathing was heavy, coming out in shaky ragged puffs, useless as his lungs didn’t inflate enough before he’d send the air out in a faint, involuntary attempt to yell. It hurt. 

Then, it stopped. He didn’t know after how long, but it did.

Lance blinked, slowly, gingerly.

He was still alive. Keith was still there, too. 

A thin smile painted across his face as he exhaled, groaning.

“-ce!? Lance!! Please, answer me, Lance!!”.

_Keith._

“Let him go, please-” the Red Paladin almost sobbed, eyes dry but voice watery, “please, humans can’t stand this, he’ll-”

“He will not die if you answer our questions, Paladin” the Galra woman replied, “where is the Castle of Lions located?”

“I don’t know, okay!? I-”

“ _Where_ is the Castle of Lions located?”

“But it’s true!! I have no idea-” the woman raised a hand, and he stopped talking out of fear that they would do something bad to Lance.

Keith’s amethyst gaze flickered, laying on Lance’s ocean eyes. Dark circles stood vividly under his too pale skin, sweaty and clammy. He spasmed, muscles tense all of the sudden and relaxed an instant later. But his gaze didn’t waver.

And Keith, he knew what he wanted to say.

_Don’t tell them anything._

The Red Paladin’s heart sank, and he swallowed loudly. He didn’t want to break the promise he’d made to Lance- that is to focus on the mission first- but he didn’t want to see him suffer like that either.

“Last chance. Where is the Castle of Lions located?” the woman insisted.

Keith lowered his head, “Fuck off”. He shut his eyes tight, not only because his vision swam.

It wasn’t enough.

This time, Lance screamed. Loudly.

He kicked and thrashed, tensing up at random intervals. His arms were awkwardly bent under his convulsing body. He yelled, incoherent, and Keith almost vomited at the sound.

He didn’t want to hear anything like that ever again. It was too much. And Lance, he was there, dying, and all just to spare him the agony of what he was going through. Keith swallowed, Lance’s name on his quivering lips.

Lance hit his face onto the dirty pavement over and over, leaving behind a trail of blood and frot. His eyes were rolled back completely, not even a tiny glimpse of the blue iris visible in that empty whiteness.

The stench of burnt skin made Keith gag. At this rate, Lance would-

And yet, the electricity didn’t stop.

Keith glared daggers at the two, who both stared at him, not seeming to care about Lance. They didn’t seem to care because they didn’t, Keith realized. They didn’t care for the paladins, they only wanted the information.

“Make it stop, I’ll- I’ll talk- please!!” the Red Paladin breathed out, eyes glued on Lance’s spasming form.

A sneer erupted from the captors, and the Galra woman spoke again, “Poor, little Paladin. I warned you before, didn’t I? ‘Last chance’, that’s what I said. Now you will have to watch your friend die-”

“NO! I’ll tell you everything, I- please, please” Keith yelled, trying to approach the woman but being yanked back by the chain. He fell in a heap, “I beg you, I beg you!”.

The man chuckled behind her, sparing Lance one last look, “What a lovely smell, huh?”.

“Fuck you!” Keith snarled, crying, “Lance, Lance, hey! Hang on, okay!? I’m here, I’m here, Lance!! D-do you hear me!? Lance!! Please!!”.

The Blue Paladin’s body kept spasming.

“Please, stop, pl-” 

In that exact moment, the door of the cell got yanked away, brutally. Keith didn’t dare to look.

He was aware of screaming and shouting, and- _wait…_

Opening his purple eyes, he saw Hunk crouching down in front of him, expression tight in worry.

“H-Hunk..!”

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. Are you o-”

“L-Lance, where, he-”

“Shiro’s got him,” Hunk breathed out, shielding the scene with his body, “your head’s bleeding. Does it hurt?”

“I- I need to see L-Lance” he stuttered, shocked, adrenaline fading and making him much more aware of the throbbing headache that threatened to split his skull open.

“Keith...”

“Pl-please, Hunk, I n-need to see h-him”.

The Yellow Paladin exhaled shakily, and gently, slowly got Keith on his feet. He wavered as his world tilted, but managed to stay upright thanks to his friend. Crossing the cell, he found Pidge and Shiro working to remove Lance’s collar. 

They’d turned him on his back; his face was slack and pale, and his eyes were half-lidded, plain.

“Is- oh God- is h-he..?”

“Keith, hey” Shiro smiled kindly, eyebrows arched in fear and worry, “Lance’s alive. We’re- we’re trying to get this off his neck...” he explained, “are you alright? Your head’s-”

“He’s concussed,” Hunk cut in, “he needs a pod too”

“Okay, okay. Pidge?”

“I’m almost- and it’s done!” they exclaimed as the heavy collar clattered to the floor. A shaky hand patted Lance’s ashen cheek, “buddy, hey, you with us?”.

No answer.

“Th-they el-elec- elec-” the Red Paladin groaned, words melting in his head.

Shiro winced, “Keith, it’s okay, don’t worry now. Pidge, is it safe to lift Lance?”.

A vigorous nod.

“Then let’s go!”. The leader scooped the unconscious teen up in his arms and began to run, Hunk carrying Keith in a piggy-back ride, Pidge a few steps in front of them to lead the way.

“Hang o-on-” Keith muttered, looking at Lance.

His body was covered in burns and bruises, neck horribly tinged in purple and black. Keith gagged again, silently.

The Cuban tensed up in Shiro’s arms an instant before the man laid him onto the Black Lion’s cot, “Buddy, you waking up now..?”

“Wh’s goi’ on...” he slurred, and Keith’s head jerked up from where Hunk was bandaging it. He got up, shakily, supported by the Yellow Paladin.

“Lance!” he whispered, a sob tratted in his throat.

“El d-día ‘s herm’so…” he breathed out, eyes glassy.

“Huh, what is he-?”

“Quier’ un he-helado, me duele l’ garg’nta.”

“Lance, baby,” Keith swallowed anxiously, sitting on the cot, cupping Lance’s hands with his shaky hands, gingerly, “you- you’re okay, you’re here with us. It’s Keith. D-do you remember me?”

“K-Kei-Keith..?” his eyes fluttered open, seemingly aware. And that’s when the pain registered, and he yelped.

“Hurts… C-can’t b-br’the well...” he choked out with a sob.

“I know, I know… You’ll be okay. We’re here. We’ll take care of you, I promise. You… You have been very brave...” he muttered, voice watery as the others stared at the scene, gaze soft.

“Y-you good..?” he breathed out.

Keith nodded, “I’m good”. Offering a genuine smile, he lowered his head to press a warm, delicate kiss on Lance’s forehead.

The latter grinned, but his expression sobered up quickly, “K’th… C’t feel m’arms ‘n legs...”.

Pidge patted Keith’s back gently, “It’s normal, Lance. You should rest now, I’ll start an IV”

Keith nodded, looking at his boyfriend, “Do you w-want me to stay here?”.

A warm, trembling hand on his answered the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> El día es hermoso... = the weather's nice...  
> Quiero un helado, me duele la garganta = I want an icecream, my throat hurts  
> -  
> Cheesy finale much? Heh.  
> Good news, the 2nd degree burn on my hand doesn't hurt much anymore! For those that don't know... My heater caught fire while my hand was still on the wire, and melted plastic dripped on the palm of my right hand. Let me tell you, it hurts.  
> I don't know how or why it happened, but at least I didn't get electrocuted like Lancey-Lance here, huh?  
> Only one day to go!!!!!!!


	29. day twenty-nine: comforted by whumper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: non-consensual drug use, non-consensual touching (not sexual), needles, klance.  
> (Please, spare a couple of minutes to read the end notes. Thank you)

The first thing he registered was the sudden sensation of warmth, gentle on Lance’s skin. For some reason that he didn’t really understand, his bones were rattling.

A hand, feather-light touch on his cheeks, his nape, his hair, cradling it delicately, soothing the pain that threatened to split his skull in half.

Lance groaned.

Keith was trying to wake him up already? But he felt so, so tired. He didn’t want to get up yet.

Flopping onto his other side, he breathed out softly, face buried into the comforter. It felt nice.

But why was he so cold? He must have stayed under the blanket for the whole night, so why?

“M’ cold...”.

On top of that, his head felt heavy and stuffed, brain pounding uncomfortably against his skull. He moaned, curling on himself further.

The hand on his head didn’t move, curling his locks careful not to pull them, so big and warm. Lance liked it a lot, melting into the touch with a moan.

Keith was really an angel.

But Lance, he was still freezing, and even if he knew that his boyfriend did well in lower temperatures, he didn’t appreciate the cold in their room. 

“S’ too cold, wh’re’s th’ heather..?” he muttered, pouting.

The hand moved, and he whimpered at the loss for an instant. 

_ Where is Keith going..? _

“Please, dun go, cariño...” Lance pleaded, trying to catch the hand without opening his eyes.

He was  _ so  _ tired. A caramel hand shakingly reached for Keith’s writs, gripping it tight.

And Lance felt pointy, small scales piercing the palm.

_ ¿Qué diablos-? _

A blue eye pried open, eyelid heavy and reluctant. Then, the other eye. And Lance screamed.

“Wh-what! Who- who are you!?” he yelled, yanking his own hand away, horrified as his breath caught in his throat, suddenly dry.

A creature sat on the edge of the bad he was propped on: tall and slim, its skin scaled and of a dull orange with black splotches, its face anthropomorphic and disturbing.

It- she?- smiled.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay, dear. It’s going to be okay” the alien whispered, gaze soft.

“I- I remember you!! I- oh, fuck. There- there was an attack, and you-!” he was cut off by a sudden pain behind his eyes and he winced loudly.

“Shh, take a deep breath, dear-”

“Stop calling me that!” Lance interrupted, fuming and fearing for his life. He tried to scramble backwards, but his back hit against the wall that surrounded the bed on two sides.

_ Mierda. _

Glancing down, he noticed that he’d been stripped down to his underwear; his torso was wrapped in a thick bandage, and his left arm was splinted, roughly but good enough to hold it still. Lance trembled.

“Wh-what’s your deal!?”

“My ‘deal’? Don’t be silly, dear, my ‘deal’ is to take care of you, of course” the alien spoke, chuckling as she brought a hand up to cover her wide mouth, “here let me check your wounds”.

Lance blinked, slowly, “You gave me these. Y-you attacked me, injured me and… And now you want to take care of m-me..?”

“Me? Attacking you..? Don’t be silly, dear-”

“Stop- stop it with that ‘dear’. I have no fucking idea of who you are” he hissed.

“I’m Khaxx, silly! You must be tired, dear, let’s get you back to bed, huh?” the alien said, trying to gently grab Lance’s wrist to guide him back down.

“I’m not tired-” and that was a complete lie “-and I’m not your ‘dear’! Let me go, I- where did you put my armor?”

“Dear, what armor are you talking about? My, you must have such a high fever! Come here,” Khaxx hummed, this time putting more force into her movements, yanking Lance toward her. She placed a hand onto the boy’s forehead, that was indubitably hotter than average, and clicked her pointy tongue, “my, my! Dear, you’re very sick.You should rest now”.

Lance tried to wiggle out of the grip, failing. His whole body hurt, and the splinted arm throbbed to the rhythm of his erratic heartbeat, “Let me go, you f-freak!”.

_ Dios,  _ everything was spinning too fast for his liking, colors and shapes twisting awkwardly, thoughts swirling.

“You’re delirious, dear-”

“Stop it!!” the Blue Paladin screamed, his throat hurting in the process, “stop calling me th-that, and let me go! The fuck is wrong with you!?”

“The medicine must be wearing off, dear. You need some more-”

“Fuck you!! Let me go immediately, you bitch!”.

She blinked, tilting her head. Khaxx seemed offended at that, and Lance almost,  _ almost  _ felt bad for his outburst. But then, the alien roughly grabbed his other arm, the splinted one, and Lance’s vision swayed further, and he felt lightheaded, weight sagging forward as he gagged from the pain.

It hurt immensely.

Slim, scaled fingers dug into the boy’s naked skin, bone twisting painfully as Khaxx jostled it on purpose, smirking, “Does it hurt, dear?”.

Lance gulped, trying to free himself but not managing to make Khaxx lift her inhumanly strong fingers. But he didn’t reply, and Khaxx twisted the arm further.

“Oh, dear, does it hurt that much? Poor...”

“¡P-puedes irte al infierno! Gaahh!! F-fuck, fuck” he muttered, eyes scrunched in agony.

It hurt so much, and Lance could hear the bone cracking slowly, muscles and nerves on fire.

But he wasn’t going to beg for Khaxx to stop. No way. 

The alien let go on her own, eventually, leaving a panting, teary mess that Lance had become in the process. He breathed heavily, eyes unable to focus as he tried to recover from the pain, arm clutched to his chest protectively. It hurt so much.

“My, my! Let me see that arm, dear”

“V-vete a la mierda.”

“Shh, you don’t have to be scared, dear. I will only take a look, alright?” Khaax soothed, the ugly snarl completely gone.

Lance’s breath hitched as the alien grabbed the injured limb again, gently, “My, you made quite a mess, huh? You should be more careful next time, dear. I’ll give you more medicine-”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” the paladin wheezed, yanking his arm away again, eyes watery but undefeated, “if you come near me again I will  _ kill  _ you. I’m done with your shit. Give me my equipment back right now” he tried, stance far from threatening.

The fever was low, but if Lance added that to the broken arm, the shock and the other bruises, he was in no condition to be yelling threats. It didn’t mean he couldn’t try it anyway.

In the back of his mind, the name of Blue echoed loudly as he tried to call her there. 

_ Where’d she go? _

If the Lion had made it back to the Castle- somehow- it could have warned the others to come and save Lance. 

But her presence in Lance’s head was faint, unstable.

He groaned. Considering everything, Khaxx might have drugged him, he reasoned. That would explain the fever and the dizziness, added to the stiffness of his muscles.

“You definitely need to take medicine now, I’m very worried, dear...” Khaxx muttered, getting up, “rest, I will be back in a moment”. She flashed a tiny smile, and left the room, the heavy door shut behind her.

Lance swallowed loudly and scrambled on his feet too, a shiver wrecking his body as he made contact with the freezing floor. His body protested at the movements, but he ignored the pain.

He didn’t have much time, and he needed to get out of there.

Blue orbs darted around the almost bare room, searching for his armor and beyard, or even for any sort of clothing item. There was one single dresser on the other side of the room, and he ran toward it at full speed. 

_ Please, please..! _

He opened the first drawer, being welcomed by total emptiness.

“Fuck...”

Lance quickly proceeded to open the other drawer, and the other, and the following one, finding absolutely nothing.

“¡Carajo!” the paladin snarled, upset beyond any limit.

He got up, rubbing his arms to generate some warmth, and walking toward the bed, grabbing the blanket and draping it on his shoulders. He swallowed, feeling suddenly significantly more lightheaded than before. Lance swayed on his spot, a shaky head brought up to hold his sweaty forehead. Chocolate hair was plastered to the now boiling skin, sweating buckets. He took a deep breath in a faint attempt to ground himself.

Lance sighed, and decided to try to knock the door down, somehow. It was stupid, and dangerous on top of that, but he didn’t care.

So he charged at it, slamming against the hard surface unceremoniously.

It didn’t work, obviously.

He tried again, and again, and again, not willing to stop. More bruises were scattered on his skin, stinging painfully, but he pushed that aside and kept going.

He didn’t have any other choice.

“Come on, you stupid fucking door!! ¡¿Por qué no te rompes?!” he breathed out through gritted teeth, angrily, trying to push the gate open, his bare feet squeaking against the floor as he slowly sank in the attempt to break the thing down.

He let himself slide down, breathing heavily. Surely enough, Lance had a couple of cracked ribs already, judging from the pain and the fact that the  _ weirdo  _ had bothered to wrap them, and the effort and continuous slamming against the hard door didn’t help one bit.

Lance made his way back to the bed and sat on it, inhaling shakily. Massaging his temples, he sighed, fear clawing at his guts.

Was he going to die there? Or were the others going to find him in time?

“Tranquilo, Lance, todo estará bien…” he muttered to himself, “and where the hell are the others? Geez, Keith owes me an apology” he commented, letting his head hit the mattress.

He needed to think, to make a mental list of the recent events and his injuries. Plus, he had to make a plan.

_ One thing at a time… _

Lance remembered fighting against a bunch of Khaxx’s compatriots. He had his blaster with him, and… The others were not there. That was a solo mission,  _ wasn’t it? _

He clearly remembered Khaxx’s snarl as she slammed him against a wall violently, and then… Nothing.

Lance’s head hurt, but if he had a concussion, it was probably minor and almost irrelevant. Then, his arm was badly broken, his ribs were hurt, his body was colored in bruises and cuts and apparently he had a fever that had spiked dramatically during these last doboshes. It was probably the drugs he’d been given while he was out.

He sighed again, letting his chest swell as much as the injured ribs allowed and pushing the air out steadily.

And, in that precise moment, the door opened, making his heart leap in his throat.

“My, what happened to the drawers? Nevermind. Come on, dear, it’s time for your medicine!” Khaxx chirped out, and sat on the edge of the bed. Lance peeked at the tray she was holding, and paled instantly.

_ No. No, no, no. Nope. Absolutely no. No way- _

The syringe on the tray contained a bright green liquid, and the needle was so huge that even Lance, usually unbothered by those, feared for his existence.

“What the fuck is that!?”

“It’s your medicine, dear.” she replied simply, picking the syringe up and stretching a hand out, “come closer, please”.

Lance didn’t, of course.

“It will make you feel better, dear. Trust Khaxx on this one” she smiled, and Lance only scrambled back farther.

“I don’t need it, I’m not your dear, I don’t trust you at all and I’m getting the fuck out of this shit-hole right now” he hissed, getting off the bad on the only other free side. He stumbled back but remained upright, never breaking eye-contact.

She only chuckled and calmly got up, “My, are you scared of needles? Dear, I promise, it’s painless-” she tried, stepping 

“Shut up, asshole!” he growled, back against the wall now, “stay back”.

She stepped closer and closer, “I will hold your hand, alright dear? Come on now…”. Khaxx was only a couple of feet away from him, syringe tight in her scaled grip as she grinned. She extended her free hand, and Lance realized that he had forgotten how to breathe.

He was panicking, and that would be his doom.

Lance’s wrapped chest seized as he gasped, lungs uncooperative, skin crawling and burning, eyes unfocused. He could barely make Khaxx’s shape out as she grabbed his upper arm and yanked him toward her violently, while he just stared, unable to do anything else.

She was going to drug him. She was going to hurt him again.

He wailed as the needle plunged in his neck, deep; he struggled, kicked, flayed his arms, but it was useless against Khaxx’s iron grip.

It hurt so,  _ so much. _

It felt like fire coursing through his veins, corroding his body from head to toe, burning its way to his guts and head. Lance’s blood rushed to his ears, his vision white.

He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see, it hurt,  _ haz que pare haz que pare haz que pare haz que haz que pare haz que- _

There was a hand in his hair, “Shh, dear, you’re okay, you’re okay...”.

He felt his body being gently lifted and then laid onto the soft mattress, thick comforter wrapped around him, firm hands swaddling him. Lance blinked, but his eyes couldn’t see, and he didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand what he didn’t understand, he was so confused. 

_ ¿Dónde estoy..? _

Lance didn’t know. He didn’t understand. He was too tired to even try. 

A watery sob escaped his throat, and his head lolled.

“Shh, hush now, my dear...”

Someone smoothed his damp hair back, shushed him kindly as he sobbed and whimpered, face wet in tears and sweat. Everything hurt too much. 

Blinking, he saw a scaly face above his, smiling tenderly as the alien spoke, but he couldn't quite make out what it was saying.

_ ¿Quién..? _

He didn’t know this alien, did he? 

“You’re okay, dear, shh… Khaxx’s here, I will not leave your side” she murmured, and he tried to squirm away, but his body was too heavy, he felt so tired he couldn't even lift a hand.

“L’mme go...” he slurred.

“Hush, dear… There’s no need to be scared, I will take good care of you”

“St’p...”. The faint attempt to lift his left hand and swat Khaxx’s away failed.

“Don’t fight, my dear. Everything will be okay. Sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up...” she coaxed, voice barely a whisper, so warm and kind. Lance sobbed.

It reminded him of his mamá’s. And Lance, he missed her a lot. And his siblings, and the team, and Keith… He missed them all, now he remembered.

He wanted to go home.

“Shh, dear, shh...”.

-

Lance didn’t remember closing his eyes again, so he was startled when, all of the sudden, he saw a blinding light, burning his strained eyes. He sobbed, shaky hands raising to shield his face.

“N-no más, po-por favor… No más…”

“Shh, you’re okay, you’re okay” a voice hurried, and Lance was too tired to try and recognize it.

“Pl-please, Khaxx, no m-more” he whimpered, but warm, gloved hands pried his hands away.

Lance sobbed, scrunching his eyes shut as tightly as he could.

“Oh no... ” the hoarse, low voice called, “I’m so sorry, I-”

“No, no, no-” his head lolled, refusing to hear that again. He wanted to get out of there, he needed to go home, he needed to-

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s going to be okay. I’m here, the others too-” the voice insisted, “shit, you got a fever. What did she do to you?”. They were trying to lift him, but he didn’t want to be hurt again. 

“No, ‘s a trap, st’p, l’mme go...”

“Lance.” the voice called, and this time, the paladin felt that it was somewhat familiar, but he was too tired to process. It was probably Khaxx who tried to torture him, to-

“Lance, baby, I’m here. I’m going to take you home now, I promise”. A soft, warm kiss was placed on his forehead, “we’re going home”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s… Done. Wow. It’s April 14, I’m a month and a half late, but I have to say it: this challenge helped me a lot. I feel like my writing has improved, and I hope I’m not the only one to think that. I’m glad I challenged myself and did this, even if it took a lot of time. For once, I’m proud of myself.  
> Now… I just want to say thank you. Thank you for reading my stories, thank you for leaving kudos, thank you for sparing a minute to comment. It means the world to me, because I never get much appreciation for what I do, so reading the things you write brings me immense joy, and I want to thank each of you for always sticking around and bearing with me.  
> As you may have noticed, I wrote an awful lot of Voltron content, and… I’m not going to stop now!!  
> I will finish the klance fic “The Price of Peace” (please, please read it). In addition to that, I currently have nine Voltron official WIPs, three or four ideas that I still need to fix, and this morning my friend and lovely beta (and the brain behind our two works “The Price of Peace” and “Nothing to fix”) told me his new klance idea and it’s breathtaking. So, yeah, I’ll be here for a while..!  
> I’m always active on my tumblr @theforgottendaydreamer , you can come and say hi if you want, I usually reply to my inboxes quickly.  
> Thank you so much, I hope we’ll meet again soon!! Sincerely yours,  
> -N.

**Author's Note:**

> DON'T READ AND RUN! Leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed this, please.  
> Thanks, see you tomorrow!


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